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THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH 


The  My&ery  at  the  Carrol  Ranch 


A   Story   of   the   South-  Weft 


Carl  Louis  Kingsbury 


In  the  sad  south-west ;  in  the  mystical  sunland, 
Far  from  the  toil  and  the  turmoil  of  gain : 

Hid  in  the  heart  of   the  only,  the  one  land, 

Beloved  of  the  sun  and  bereft  of  the  rain. 

—Rhymes  of  the  Rockies 


Published  by 

David  C.  Cook  Publishing  Co. 
Elgin.  Illinois 


COPYRIGHT,   1910, 

BY  DAVID  C.  COOK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 
ELGIN,  ILLINOIS. 


The  Mystery  at  the  Carrol  Ranch 


fflp  CARL  LOUIS  KINGSBUFtYi^  \ 


CHAPTER  I. 
A  DAY  OF  TROUBLE. 

BY  DINT  of  incessant  care  in  water 
ing,  driving  away  intrusive  hens,  and 
making  ferocious  but  perfectly  harm 
less  demonstrations  with  bits  of  rocks 
against  whatever  dog  might  chance  to  come 
near  them,  Mrs.  Easton  had  succeeded  in 
growing  a  screen  of  morning-glories  along 
the  front  of  the  little  east  porch.  She  had 
finished  watering  the  precious  crop  one 
morning,  and  was  standing  a  little  back, 
studying  the  effect  with  deep  satisfaction, 
when  her  eye  was  attracted  to  a  moving 
speck  on  the  road  beyond  the  south  field. 

Despite  her  sixty  odd  years,  Mrs.  Eas- 
ton's  eyes  were  keen,  and  she  turned  from 
a  momentary  inspection  of  the  far-off  speck 
with  a  sniff  of  contempt. 

"  Some  cowboy  ridin'  his  horse  to  death, 
as  usual,"  was  her  inward  conclusion. 
"  Beats  all  that  one  of  the  critters  can 
never  go  anywhere — no,  not  as  far  as  the 
post  office  after  a  postage  stamp — without 
ridin'  full  tilt,  as  if  his  time  was  too  precious 
to  be  wasted  in  goin'  at  a  decent  gait." 
And,  with  a  last  complacent  look  at  her 
morning-glories,  she  turned  back  into  the 
house. 

In  the  dining-room  she  found  her  grand 
daughter,  sixteen-year-old  Nora  Carrol. 
Nora  had  an  array  of  bright-hued  bits  of 
print  spread  out  on  the  table  and  was 
busily  engaged  in  matching  them.  The 
ultimate  outcome  of  the  matching  was 
destined  to  be  a  "  piece  quilt,"  such  as  Mrs. 
Easton,  who  had  instigated  the  industry, 


was  wont  to  construct  in  her  own  younger 
days. 

Nora  glanced  up  from  her  occupation  as 
her  grandmother  entered  the  room. 

"  Would  you  put  a  red  one  here,  grand 
ma?" 

Mrs.  Easton,  walking  over  to  the  table, 
studied  the  proposed  effect. 

V  No,  I  wouldn't.  Red  and  pink  don't 
go  well  together.  Another  thing,  child,  you 
must  be  careful  to  turn  in  all  the  edges  of 
the  pieces — this  way;  if  you  don't,  they'll 
all  fray  out,  and— 

"  Hark  !   Grandma,  someone   is  calling !" 

Mrs.  Easton,  intent  on  her  artistic  dem 
onstration,  did  not  catch  the  remark. 

"  When  I  was  a  girl — "  she  was  begin 
ning,  when  Nora  broke  in  again. 

"  There !  Don't  you  hear  that,  grand 
ma?" 

Mrs.  Easton  paused  to  listen,  and  then 
looked  reproachfully  at  her  granddaughter. 

"  Of  course  there's  someone  callin' ! 
How  long  are  you  going  to  sit  there  and  let 
them  holler?  Why,  when  I  was  your 
age —  But  as  Nora  had  already  vanished 
through  the  open  front  door  her  grand 
mother,  hastily  postponing  her  reminis 
cences,  followed  her. 

Beside  the  gate  a  man,  mounted  on  the 
lean  cow-pony  of  the  Southwest,  had  halted, 
and,  as  Mrs.  Easton  approached,  he  was 
saying  to  Nora : 

"  And  nothing  would  do  but  he  must  try 
cutting  them  out  himself.  He  hadn't  more 
'n  got  into  the  thick  of  the  mix-up  when 
his  horse  stumbled,  and  he  fell,  and  was 
trampled  on — " 


M105432 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


"  Who  fell  and  was  trampled  on  ?"  de 
manded  Mrs.  Easton,  coming  up  breathless 
and  pale  with  apprehension. 

"Mr.  Carrol  dio.     He's  hurt  some." 

"  Oh,  ^e  isn't  hurt  badly — don't  say  that 
he  is  hurt  badly !"  Nora  exclaimed,  her 
face  white  undei  all  ?t?  ybidmg  tan. 

<k  Well,  you  see,  we  couldn't  tell  just  how 
bad  he  is  hurt,"  the  range  rider  admitted, 
"  because  he  didn't  know  nothin',  and — 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  was  unconscious?" 
cried  Mrs.  Easton,  in  consternation. 

"  Why — yes — I  reckon  that's  the  diction 
ary  word  for  it.  Anyway,  he's  as  limp  as  a 
rag  baby.  The  boys  are  bringin'  him  home. 
Big  Pete,  he  rode  over  Rosita  way  to  fetch 
the  doctor — 

"  The  doctor  !"  Mrs.  Easton  echoed  the 
words  with  a  groan.  "  Is  he  as  badly  hurt 
as  that?" 

"  One  of  his  legs  is  broke,  sure.  We 
can't  tell  yet  whether  they're  all  broke,  or 
not.  He  was  down,  all  of  a  heap,  and  the 
cattle  trampin'  over  him;  nobody  can't  tell 
exactly  what  did  happen,  but  we  'low  that 
he'll  come  to  his  senses  again." 

The  rider,  Fred  Brown,  gathered  up  his 
reins,  but  lingered  to  explain :  "  The  boys 
they  thought  I'd  better  come  on  ahead  and 
kind  of  prepare  you-all,  like.  They'll  be 
close  at  hand,  now,  and  I  must  hurry  back 
and  meet  'em.  They  thought,  the  boys  did," 
he  insisted  awkwardly,  "  that  it  might  be 
easier  for  you  if  I  come  ahead  and  kind 
o'  broke  the  news  to  you." 

"  Thank  you  for  doing  it,"  said  Nora, 
faintly.  Her  stricken  face  bore  so  piteous 
a  look  that  Fred  was  constrained  to  add, 
as  he  again  turned  his  horse's  head  toward 
the  round-up  camp  on  the  Cimarron,  where 
the  accident  had  taken  place,  "  It  may  be 
that  there  ain't  more  'n  one  of  his  legs 
broke ;  we  couldn't  be  sure,  you  know." 
He  touched  his  horse  and  was  gone,  while 
Nora  and  her  grandmother  reentered  the 
house;  there  the  bright  bits  of  print  scat 
tered  about  the  dining-room  table  first  at 
tracted  Mrs.  Easton's  attention. 


"  Put  away  your  quiltin'  pieces,  child. 
There's  no  tellin'  when  you'll  get  a  chance 
to  work  on  'em  again — maybe  never.  This 
is  a  dretful  thing  to  have  happen  to  us, 
right  at  the  beginnin'  of  the  round-up  sea 
son,  too !  We  lost  pretty  nigh  all  our  crops 
last  year  by  flood,  and  nigh  all  the  cattle 
the  year  before  by  winter  storms.  But,  for 
all  that,  you  won't  hear  me  makin'  any 
complaint.  I'm  used  to  sufferin'  in  silence. 

"  I  did  begin  to  think  that  maybe  we'd 
get  a  little  forehanded  this  year,  but  that 
hope's  all  over  with  now.  Dear,  dear ! 
what  a  time  it  will  be  for  us  all !  For,  if 
I  do  say  it,  James'  temper  ain't  none  of  the 
best  at  any  time.  You  know  yourself, 
Nora — and  there's  no  use  in  denyin'  it — 
that  many's  the  time  when  it  would  be 
safer,  as  well  as  pleasanter,  to  touch  off 
a  bunch  of  cannon  crackers  than  to  cross 
him. 

"  Now  what  are  you  cryin'  about  ?  Look 
at  me — I  ain't  uttered  a  word  of  complaint, 
nor  sha'n't,  not  if  I  run  my  legs  off,  as  I 
prob'ly  shall,  waitin'  on  him." 

"  Oh,  poor  father  !  Grandma,  they  are 
bringing  him  home  on  a  stretcher  !" 

"  What  in  time  would  vou  have  them 
bring  him  home  on?  A  pitchfork?" 

But,  despite  her  protestations,  Mrs.  Eas 
ton's  ruddy  face  grew  a  shade  paler  as 
the  vision  of  her  son-in-law  returning  in 
this  helpless  fashion  to  the  home  that  he 
had  left,  well  and  strong,  a  few  hours  be 
fore,  presented  itself  to  her  imagination. 

"  We'd  best  get  his  bed  ready,"  she  added, 
in  a  subdued  voice,  while  Nora  hastily 
gathered  up  the  last  of  her  pieces. 

In  the  midst  of  the  preparations  in  the 
injured  man's  bedroom,  Mrs.  Easton  sud 
denly  remarked : 

"  What  puzzles  me  is  to  know  what  on 
earth  James  was  tryin'  to  cut  out  cattle 
for,  anyway.  That's  work  for  the  most 
skillful  cowboys — which  your  father  ain't. 
Now,  you  know  that  as  well  as  I  do, 
Eleanor." 

"  Fred  was  telling  me,  just  before  you 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


came  out,  grandma,  that  father's  horse — 
he  was  riding  the  bay  colt — was  green  and 
awkward — 

"  There,  now !  Do  you  reckon  that  a 
real,  proper-brought-up  cowboy  would  try 
to  cut  out  cattle  from  a  half-wild  herd  of 
a  thousand  or  more,  on  an  unbroken  horse? 
I'm  surprised  at  James.  It's  past  account- 
in'  for,  unless  he  got  mad  about  something, 
and  then  he'd  undertake  anything." 

"  Fred  said — Fred  thought — that  perhaps 
he  was  kind  of  put  out  about  something," 
Nora  said,  hesitatingly,  with  her  eyes  on 
the  sheet  that  she  was  carefully  spreading 
over  the  bed. 

"Oh,  he  was  put  out,  was  he?" 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Mrs.  Easton 
did  not  ask  what  it  was  that  had  roused 
her  son-in-law's  temper,  but  she  presently 
observed : 

"  When  a  man  gets  mad  he's  a  good  deal 
like  a  balky  horse :  he  doesn't  feel  any  hurt. 
If  so  be  as  your  pa  has  come  to  his  senses, 
and  is  real  mad  yet,  he  won't  feel  the  pain 
like  he  would  if — " 

Just  then  a  sound  of  trampling  feet  was 
heard  outside,  and  Nora  cried: 

"  Here  they  come,  grandma  !" 

A  little  procession  of  horses  and  foot 
men  had  stopped  before  the  gate.  The  foot 
men  were  carrying  a  rude  stretcher,  and, 
as  Nora  hurried  out,  she  heard  the  occupant 
of  the  stretcher  voicing  a  vigorous  protest 
against  being  "  toted  around  like  a  baby !" 

"Oh,  you're  better,  aren't  you,  father?" 
she  exclaimed,  as  she  sprang  to  his  side. 

"  Better?  There  ain't  anything  the  mat 
ter,  as  I  know  of,"  he  replied. 

It  was  plain  that  he  was  still  somewhat 
dazed.  It  was  at  this  instant  that  Mrs. 
Easton  approached  and  began  at  once  a 
voluble  rehearsal  of  the  salient  points  of 
the  disaster  as  she  had  heard  it. 

"  Oh,  James  !"  she  cried,  "  what  a  dret- 
ful  calamity  this  is !  Are  all  of  your  legs 
broke?  Fred,  he  said  one  of  'em  was, 
and — " 

"  I    reckon,    ma'am,"    interposed    one    of 


the  cowboy  attendants,  "  that  Mr.  Carrol 
he  was  just  stunned  like;  he's  come  to 
now  " — this  was  self-evident,  as  Mr.  Carrol 
was  already  breathing  low-toned  anathemas 
against  Fred — "  and  if  we  was  to  carry  him 
in  against  the  doctor  comes —  He  paused 
inquiringly,  and  Mrs.  Easton  answered  by 
leading  the  way  into  the  house,  whither  the 
men  followed  with  their  burden,  while  Nora 
stayed  behind  a  moment  to  care  for  the 
riderless  horse  that  had  brought  up  the 
rear  of  the  procession.  This  horse  was  the 
unlucky  bay  colt.  Nora  led  him  to  the 
stable  and  then  ran  to  the  house.  The  doc 
tor  had  come  during  the  brief  interval  of 
her  absence,  and  she  entered  the  room 
where  her  father  lay  just  in  time  to  hear 
his  verdict:  "  Badly  stunned;  ankle  twisted; 
a  general  shaking  up.  You'll  find  your  bed 
a  comfortable  place  to  stay  in  for  some  days 
to  come,  Carrol." 

After  the  doctor  and  the  cowboys  were 
gone,  James  Carrol  opened  his  eyes — he  had 
kept  them  obstinately  closed  in  order  not  to 
look  the  contempt  that  he  felt  for  the 
former's  observation  as  to  his  finding  his 
bed  the  most  comfortable  place  to  stay  in — 
and  looked  inquiringly  at  his  daughter,  who 
was  sitting  quietly  by  his  bedside. 

"Did  you  take  care  of  the  colt?" 

"Yes,  father." 

"  The  colt  wasn't  to  blame ;  he's  green. 
It  wasn't  his  fault  that  I  had  to  ask  him 
to  do  something  that  he  didn't  understand; 
he'd  'a'  done  it  all  right  if  he'd  known  how." 

"  What  made  you — if  he  didn't  know 
how — "  Nora  began,  and  paused. 

"Made  me  try  it  with  him?  Because 
I  ain't  the  one  to  shirk  my  work,  like  some 
of  the  rest  of  my  family — there  !  do  put 
down  that  cat !  It  makes  me  crawl  all  over 
to  see  her  rubbing  against  your  face." 

As  Nora  meekly  shoved  aside  the  house 
cat  that,  with  paws  around  her  neck,  was 
purring  sympathetically,  he  went  on: 

"Where's  Rupert?  I  haven't  seen  any 
thing  of  him  through  all  this  fuss.  Hasn't 
he  got  back  yet?" 


10 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


"  No,  father." 

Her  father  stifled  a  groan  of  mingled 
pain  and  disappointment. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  that  boy. 
He's  no  good  on  earth  !  I  tell  you,  Eleanor, 
he's  no  good  on  earth !"  his  voice  rose 
angrily,  as  Nora  winced  at  the  words.  "  If 
it  hadn't  been  for  him,  I  wouldn't  be  lying 
here  this  way,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
round-up  season.  He'll  be  the  ruin  of  all 
of  us  yet,  and  you  and  your  grandmother, 
who  are  always  upholding  him,  no  matter 
what  he  does,  will  live  to  see  it." 

"  I — I  don't  understand,  father,"  Nora 
ventured,  timidly,  "  how  Rupert  could  be 
to  blame  for  your  getting  hurt.  I  thought 
from  what  Fred  said  that  it  was  because 
the  bay  colt — " 

"  Fred's  a  fool !"  her  father  interrupted, 
harshly.  "  Rupert  never  came  at  all,"  he 
concluded,  without  taking  the  trouble  to 
explain  in  what  way  his  son  was  to  blame 
for  the  accident  that  had  befallen  him. 
"  And  I'd  be  willing  to  bet  that  while  I'm 
held  here  flat  on  my  back  by  his  careless 
ness,  he's  sitting  on  some  rock,  or,  maybe, 
lying  flat  on  his  back,  looking  up  at  the 
sky,  or  at  anything  else  except  the  cattle 
that  he's  set  to  watch,  and  with  no  more 
thought  of  'em  than  if  they  was  a  herd  of 
buffaloes  in  the  heart  of  Africa!"  This 
summing  up  appeared,  even  to  Nora,  to  be 
so  extremely  probable  that  she  made  no 
remark,  while  her  father  went  on  irritably : 
"  And  it  happens  to-day  that  Cosme,  who 
is  of  some  use,  must  be  gone." 

Nora  knew  that  Cosme,  the  Mexican  boy 
who  did  odd  jobs  about  the  ranch,  had 
gone  to  Pinos  Altos,  a  long  day's  drive 
distant,  but  when  her  brother  rode  away  in 
the  early  morning,  she  had  not  heard  his 
destination  mentioned.  "  Where  did  Ru 
pert  go,  father?"  she  asked. 

"  Where  did  Rupert  go?"  echoed  the  in 
jured  man  fretfully.  "Who  knows  where 
he  went?  All  I  know  is  where  I  told  him 
to  go,  and  that  was  to  the  range  on  the 
south  slope  of  the  Tefoya  Mesa  with  a 


bunch  of  cattle  that  I  am  going  to  herd 
for  Wilson,  and  then  to  come  on  to  the 
round-up  on  the  Cimarron.  It  isn't  far; 
he  could  have  got  the  cattle  over  there 
and  been  on  hand  at  the  round-up  by  ten 
o'clock,  easy,  but  here's  the  day  nigh  gone, 
and  not  a  sign  of  him  yet !" 

"  It  isn't  quite  so  near  night  as  it  seems, 
father;  there's  a  fog  coming  down  from 
the  hills,  and  that  makes  it  seem  later." 

"A  fog?"  Mr.  Carrol  raised  himself  on 
one  elbow,  the  better  to  peer  out  of  the 
window  at  his  bedside.  "  So  there  is.  I 
noticed  this  morning  that  the  hills  in  the 
north  looked  kind  of  hazy.  Well,  if  Rupert 
has  let  those  cattle  get  away  from  him,  and 
the  fog  settles  down  as  thick  as  I've  seen 
it  in  New  Mexico  before  now,  ther'  ain't 
enough  cowboys  in  the  territory  to  get  them 
together  again  until  it  lets  up.  A  fog!"  he 
repeated  anxiously.  "  I  wish  your  little 
Jersey  was  in  the  corral.  I  hate  to  have 
her  out  when  there's  any  danger  of  the  cat 
tle  straying.  He  laid  himself  back  on  the 
pillow  with  a  sigh.  "  Well,  there's  nothing 
for  it  but  to  wait  till  Rupert  comes,  if  he 
comes  at  all;  like  enough  he'll  manage  to 
lose  himself  as  well  as  the  cattle." 

"  I  might  go  out  and  be  doing  the  chores ; 
I  might  feed  Snowflake,"  Nora  suggested, 
rightly  deeming  that  the  chore  about 
which  her  father  was  most  concerned  was 
the  care  and  feeding  of  the  beautiful  white 
mare. 

"  Maybe  you'd  better,  then  there'll  be 
that  much  done,  anyway ;  and  ask  your 
grandmother  to  make  me  some  coffee,  and 
make  it  strong." 

"  I  will,  father."  But  the  girl  paused  at 
the  door  on  her  way  out  to  look  wistfully 
back  at  the  figure  on  the  bed.  "  I  wish 
that  I  could  do  something  for  you,"  she 
said  at  last.  "  I'm  afraid  you're  suffering 
more  than  you  will  own  up  to,  father." 

"  I'm  suffering  some,  I'll  admit  that, 
child;  but  it  doesn't  do  any  good  to  dwell 
on  it."  He  closed  his  lips  with  the  forti 
tude  of  an  Indian,  resolved  to  let  no  sign 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


11 


escape  him,  but  opened  them  again  imme 
diately  to  add  another  item  to  the  long  list 
of  Rupert's  shortcomings: 

"  I'm  suffering  in  mind  more  than  in 
body.  If  your  brother  has  allowed  those 
steers  to  get  away,  I  don't  see  how  we  are 
to  round  them  up  again ;  and  that's  what  he 
has  done,  of  course." 

"  It  may  be  that  he  has,"  Nora  admitted, 
with  a  sigh  that  was  not  all  of  sympathy 
for  her  father,  as  she  rose  and  quietly  left 
the  room. 


<t 


CHAPTER  II. 
NORA  TRIES  TO  HELP  RUPERT. 

WHERE     are     you     going,     now, 
child?"  Mrs.  Easton  demanded, 
as    her    granddaughter    passed 
through    the    kitchen    on    her    way    to    the 
barn. 

"  Out  to  feed  Snowflake,  grandma. 
Please  make  father  a  cup  of  strong  coffee; 
he  thinks  he  would  like  it." 

"  Well,  as  if  I  hadn't  a  realizin'  sense  of 
that !  There's  the  water  a-bilin'  for  it  al 
ready.  When  you  come  to  my  age  you'll 
know,  without  being  told,  that  hot  coffee, 
next  to  camphire,  is  the  best  thing  that  a 
man  can  drink — or  put  on  his  wounds,  I 
mean." 

She  proceeded  to  prepare  the  beverage, 
and  made  such  good  speed  that  she  was 
soon  in  the  barn  at  Nora's  side. 

"  I  feel  worried  about  Rupert,"  she  con 
fessed,  as  Nora  paused  in  her  occupation 
to  glance  inquiringly  at  her.  She  pushed 
back  a  lock  of  her  rebellious  gray  hair,  as 
she  went  on,  anxiously: 

"  What  do  you  s'pose  has  become  of  him, 
this  time?  Do  you  think  it's  anyways 
probable  that  the  Apaches  have  got  him?" 

Despite  her  own  anxiety,  Nora  laughed. 
Fourteen  years  had  passed  since  the  very 
last  of  the  murderous  outbreaks  of  Apache 
Indians  in  New  Mexico  had  taken  place, 
and  even  then  the  disturbance  was  several 


hundred  miles  distant  from  the  Carrol 
ranch,  but  Mrs.  Easton  had  not  failed,  on 
all  occasions  since  then,  to  express  her 
haunting  conviction  that  those  ubiquitous 
red  men  were  directly  responsible  for  it,  if 
any  member  of  her  little  flock  failed  to  ap 
pear  promptly  at  the  expected  time. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  s'pose  has  become 
of  him?"  she  demanded,  resenting  Nora's 
laugh. 

"  Grandma,"  returned  Nora,  facing  about 
suddenly,  "  do  you  remember  the  Bible  les 
son  that  you  read  us  last  Sunday?" 

"  No,  I  don't;  and  if  I  did,  I  dunno  what 
it  has  to  do  with — 

"  But  I  do,  grandma,"  Nora  interrupted 
eagerly.  "It  was  this:  'If  there  arise 
among  you  a  prophet,  or  a  dreamer  of 
dreams  ' — that  was  part  of  it,  and  it  made 
me  think  of  Rupert." 

Mrs.  Easton  shook  her  head  doubtfully. 
"  Rupert's  as  smart  a  boy  as  ever  lived," 
she  averred,  "  but  I  can't  say  as  I've  no 
ticed  any  signs  of  his  bein'  a  prophet, 
and—" 

"  Ah,  but  did  you  ever  see  such  a 
dreamer  of  dreams?"  declared  Nora,  tri 
umphantly.  "  You  know,  yourself,  grand 
ma,  that  he's  as  likely  as  not  to  have  for 
gotten  everything  on  earth  but  some  cloud 
he  is  watching  or  some  wild  birds  flying 
over — " 

"  While  you  are  at  home  doing  his  work 
for  him,"  Mrs.  Easton  admitted,  in  a  low 
tone,  and  added:  "I  hope  he  ain't  in  no 
worse  trouble  than  watchin'  clouds  or  ant 
hills — for  he's  fond  of  both — this  time ;  he's 
takin'  a  good  while  to  go  to  the  Tefoya 
Mesa." 

"  Oh,  he'll  come  all  right;  don't  worry, 
grandma,"  replied  Nora,  taking  up  the 
pitchfork  and  beginning  to  pull  hay  out  of 
the  stack  before  her. 

"  Me  worry  ?  I  guess  not !  Some  folks 
might  let  themselves  give  right  away  when 
trouble's  piled  on  to  'em  as  thick  as  it  has 
been  on  to  us  to-day,  but  I  ain't  one  of  that 
kind.  What  I  have  to  bear,  I  bear,  and  say 


12 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


nothin'.  Some  folks  might  keep  thinkin' 
of  the  prairie  dog  holes  that  a  range  rider's 
horse  sometimes  steps  into  and  never  gets 
up  again,  while  the  rider  lays  beside  him 
with  a  broken  neck,  maybe,  or  they  might 
be  afeard  that  a  boy  like  Rupert  had  met 
up  with  drunken  Mexicans  and  had  got  into 
some  dretful  quarrel,  or  that  the  Apaches 
had  scalped  him,  but  I  never  think  of  such 
things;  I  make  it  a  rule  to  never  trouble 
trouble  till  trouble  troubles  me.  Well,  I 
jest  wanted  to  hearten  you  up  a  little  about 
the  boy;  now  I'll  go  back  and  give  James 
his  coffee." 

She  hastened  back  to  the  house,  leaving 
Xora  so  effectually  "  heartened  "  that  the 
tears  came  to  her  eyes  as  she  staggered  into 
the  stable,  bent  under  the  weight  of  the 
heavily  loaded  pitchfork.  After  caring  for 
the  horses,  and  stopping  before  the  bay 
colt's  stall  to  express  her  very  unfavorable 
opinion  of  him,  she  went  outside  the  stable 
and  stood  for  a  moment  looking  steadfastly 
toward  the  south,  the  direction  whence, 
owing  to  the  exigencies  of  the  trail,  Rupert 
must  come  if  he  were  returning  from  the 
east  range  of  the  Tefoya  Mesa.  The  fog, 
rolling  majestically  downward  from  the 
northern  hills,  had  blotted  out  all  the  nearer 
landscape,  but,  far  to  the  southwest,  a  thin 
stretch  of  plains,  lifted  somewhat  above  the 
surrounding  level,  was  yet  bathed  in  sun 
light.  Some  cattle  were  moving  restlessly 
upon  it,  and,  with  the  fog  between  and  be 
yond,  this  sunlit  stretch  had  the  effect  of  a 
pasture  swinging  insecurely  in  midair. 

Nora  was  used  to  such  odd  combinations 
— the  effect  of  sun  and  plains  and  fog.  What 
especially  interested  her  was  that  she  at 
length  made  out  a  horseman  riding  swiftly 
down  the  long  line  of  the  sky  pasture. 
Even  at  that  distance  she  instantly  recog 
nized  Rupert,  and  understood,  moreover, 
that  such  riding  could  only  be  in  an  at 
tempt  to  round  up  a  scattered  herd. 

Disregarding  the  amiable  whinnies  of  the 
white  mare,  who,  from  the  semi-darkness  of 
her  stall,  was  thrusting  a  dainty  muzzle 


toward  her,  Nora  ran  to  the  rear  of  the 
stable  where  the  bay  colt  was  housed,  and, 
in  a  kind  of  breathless,  furtive  hurry,  tossed 
her  father's  saddle  on  his  back,  led  him  out 
by  the  rear  door,  which  was  out  of  sight 
from  the  house,  and  mounting,  dashed  away 
through  the  thickening  fog  toward  the  far 
sunlit  line  along  which  she  had  seen  her 
brother  racing  his  jaded  horse.  She  could 
no  longer  see  horse  or  sky  line,  but  she  told 
herself,  as  the  bay  colt  bounded  onward: 

"  The  cattle  have  got  away  from  Rupert, 
and  he  will  never  in  this  world  be  able  to 
get  them  together  again  without  help  !" 

The  black  and  naked  mesquite  bushes,  all 
alike  in  their  gnarled  unloveliness,  started 
from  out  the  mist,  only  to  vanish  again  on 
either  side  in  endless  procession,  as  the 
colt's  flying  feet  spurned  the  road. 

For  all  sight  or  sound  of  other  life  than 
her  own  and  the  colt's,  Nora  felt  as  she 
might  had  she  entered  the  heart  of  a  billowy 
fog  ocean,  but  she  kept  on  at  a  reckless 
pace,  assured  that  her  brother  was  some 
where  ahead  of  her,  and  that  he  needed 
help. 

Whether  she  would  be  able  to  give  the 
needed  help  remained  to  be  seen,  but  the 
gait  at  which  she  kept  the  bay  colt  was 
none  the  slower  for  that.  To  her  loyal 
heart  there  was  but  the  one  patent  fact: 
Rupert  needed  help,  and  there  was  no  one 
save  her  to  render  it. 


CHAPTER  III. 
WHAT  RUPERT  WAS  DOING. 

RUPERT,  for  whose  return  father  and 
daughter  watched,  each  in   a  differ 
ent  spirit,  but  with  equal  anxiety,  was 
having  sufficient  trouble  of  his  own. 

In  the  early  morning  he  had  left  home 
filled  with  hope  and  good  intentions,  among 
which  might  be  reckoned  a  firm  determina 
tion  to  carry  out  to  the  letter  the  directions 
that  his  father  had  given  him  in  regard  to 
the  work  for  the  day,  and  to  allow  no  be- 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


13 


traving  side  issues  to  divert  his  attention 
from  the  matter  immediately  in  hand. 

But  Rupert  was  always  swayed  by  cir 
cumstances,  and  there  was,  for  him,  an  end 
less  chain  of  interesting  circumstances  con 
nected  with  the  cattle  drive.  His  father 
had  been  right  in  saying  that  Rupert  could1 
have  easily  reached  the  round-up  on  the 
Cimarron  by  ten  o'clock,  after  leaving  the 
herd  of  steers  on  their  allotted  range,  had 
he  attended  strictly  to  business ;  but  strict 
attention  to  business  (as  he  understood  the 
word)  and  Rupert  were  utter  strangers. 

So  much  so  that  before  nightfall  of  that 
same  day  Rupert  was  driven  nearly  desper 
ate  by  the  recollection  of  the  things  that  he 
ought  to  have  done,  and  had  left  undone,  in 
order,  as  it  now  seemed  to  him,  that  he 
might  have  the  more  time  to  do  the  things 
that  he  ought  not  to. 

Rupert  loved  the  great,  wild  plains. 
They  were  to  him  as  the  open  pages  of  a 
book  spread  out  for  his  entertainment. 
Each  succeeding  day,  with  its  differing 
atmospheric  effects,  was  as  the  turning  of 
a  new  page  in  the  great  book  whose  leaves 
— the  fixed,  unalterable,  melancholy,  gray 
plains — were  always  the  same,  but  whose 
illustrations  varied  with  every  passing 
hour — almost,  indeed,  with  every  passing 
minute,  as  cloud  shadows,  flying  over  the 
waste  of  gray,  caught  his  eye  and  drew  it 
upward  to  the  cloud  itself  floating  in  a 
waste  of  blue.  The  flight  of  an  eagle,  the 
wavering  line  of  some  far-off  mirage,  or, 
in  summer,  the  dizzying  shimmer  of  heat 
waves  undulating  endlessly  over  the  scorch 
ing  solitudes,  would  hold  him  spell-bound 
and  speechless  for  minutes  at  a  time,  and 
what  mischief  might  not  a  half-wild,  in 
tractable  herd  of  cattle  get  into  in  those 
minutes? 

Cosme,  the  Mexican  helper,  had  started 
at  dawn  with  the  work  team  and  \vagon 
for  Pinos  Altos  to  purchase  supplies,  but 
as  Rupert,  with  his  bunch  of  steers  well 
in  hand,  rode  up  the  long  slope  of  the 
Tefoya  Mesa,  three  miles  east  of  the  ranch 


house,  he  caught  a  vanishing  glimpse  of 
Cosme  and  the  outfit  going  at  good  speed, 
not  on  the  road  that  wound  like  a  con 
stantly  narrowing  white  ribbon  toward 
Pinos  Altos,  but  well  beyond  that  road  and 
traveling  without  apparent  aim,  straight 
over  the  unbroken  plains  toward  the  north. 
Pinos  Altos  lay  due  east,  thirty  miles  away. 
Halting  his  pony,  Rupert  sat  gazing  after 
the  disappearing  wagon  in  constantly  in 
creasing  amazement.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  as  to  its  being  his  father's  team  and 
wagon.  Rupert's  vision  was  as  keen  as  a 
hawk's,  and  it  is  a  poor  eye  that  cannot  lo 
cate  and  classify  any  object  of  reasonable 
size  at  an  almost  unbelievable  distance  in 
the  clear  air  of  the  Great  Plains  country. 

"  Now  what  do  you  reckon  that  little 
rascal  is  going  off  that  way  for?"  Rupert 
suddenly  questioned  his  cow-pony,  Vidette. 
As  Vidette  gave  no  other  reply  than  an  im 
patient  shake  of  her  head,  Rupert,  who 
was  much  in  the  habit  of  talking  to  his 
stanch  little  mount,  continued  decisively: 
"  Well,  whatever  it  is,  you  can  just  make 
up  your  mind  that  it's  for  no  good." 

He  watched  the  outfit  for  a  few  minutes 
longer,  then  glanced  around  at  the  cattle 
that,  taking  advantage  of  his  momentary 
inattention,  had  already  stopped,  spread  out, 
and  gone  to  grazing.  Whatever  might  be 
said  of  Rupert's  discretion,  he  was  not  alto 
gether  lacking  in  discrimination.  His 
quick,  inquiring  glance  told  him  that  the 
grass  was  good,  and  he  knew  that  the 
steers,  fifty  in  number,  having  been  in  the 
corral  without  food  since  the  previous 
evening,  must  be  very  hungry.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  they  were  safe  to  remain  where 
they  were,  or,  at  least,  near  by,  for  some 
hours,  and  it  wrould  take  but  a  few  minutes 
for  him  to  overhaul  Cosme  and  find  out 
what  the  Mexican  was  doing;  then  there 
would  be  ample  time  yet  left  for  him  to 
make  the  round-up  camp,  without  rushing 
the  steers  to  their  destination,  either. 

"  Vidette,  my  girl,  we'll  just  step  along 
and  see  what  Master  Cosme  is  trailing 


14 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


after,"  he  informed  the  pony,  as  he  whirled 
her  about  and  set  off  at  a  good  pace,  straight 
after  the  lessening  object  that  was  still 
traveling  steadily  northward,  well  beyond 
the  Pinos  Altos  road.  The  distance  be 
tween  the  point  where  Rupert  had  first 
sighted  Cosme  and  himself  was,  as  he  esti 
mated  it,  about  four  miles.  It  would  be 
a  mere  playspell  for  fleet-footed  Vidette 
to  make  the  four  miles  and  back  again 
within  an  hour,  he  reckoned,  as  he  blithely 
took  up  the  trail,  leaving  the  steers  un 
guarded,  it  is  true,  but  also  wholly  oblivious 
to  his  departure,  and  of  everything  else 
save  eating.  As  it  turned  out,  however, 
appearances  were  deceitful  in  this  case,  as 
in  so  many  others. 

In  some  of  his  too-frequent  moments  of 
exasperation  with  his  only  son,  Mr.  Carrol 
was  wont  to  say  that  Rupert  was  an  indus- 
trous  lad,  in  one  way,  inasmuch  as  he  was 
always  busy,  either  in  getting  into  a  scrape 
or  in  getting  out  of  one.  He  was  certainly 
justifying  the  first  part  of  his  father's  state 
ment  when  he  turned  his  back  on  his 
charges  and  sent  his  pony  racing  down  the 
long  slope  of  the  Tefoya  Mesa  in  pursuit 
of  the  young  Mexican.  His  estimate  of 
the  time  that  it  would  take  to  overhaul  the 
Mexican  was  correct,  as  far  as  it  went,  but, 
unfortunately,  it  did  not  go  far  enough,  for 
he  failed  to  take  into  account  the  fact  that 
the  outfit  was  traveling,  too.  He  had  un 
wittingly  embarked  on  the  proverbially 
long,  stern  chase.  More  than  that,  when 
Cosme,  happening  to  glance  back,  saw  him 
coming,  he  sprang  up  in  the  wagon,  and, 
seizing  the  long  whip,  lashed  the  straining 
horses  into  a  furious  gallop.  This  unex 
pected  move  filled  Rupert  with  such  blind 
ing  fury  that  he  forgot  everything  but  the 
pursuit.  He  was  sure  that  the  Mexican 
had  instantly  recognized  by  whom  he  was 
followed,  and  was  bent  on  escaping  him. 

Suddenly  Vidette,  whose  acquaintance 
with  the  spur  had  hitherto  been  of  the 
slightest,  felt  a  stinging,  goading  prick  in 
her  side;  she  sprang  forward  as  if  all  the 


Furies  were  at  her  heels.  The  little  mare 
was  noted  throughout  the  cattle  country  for 
her  phenomenal  bursts  of  speed,  and  this 
one  took  her,  in  an  incredibly  short  space, 
within  hailing  distance  of  the  occupant  of 
the  wagon  drawn  by  the  lumbering,  panting 
work  horses. 

Rupert  stood  up  in  his  stirrups. 

"  You,  Cosme,  stop !"  he  shouted,  his  face 
white  with  rage,  while  he  shook  his 
clinched  fist  menacingly  at  the  reckless 
driver.  "  Stop,  I  say !  Do  you  want  to 
kill  those  horses?" 

For  reply  Cosme  again  laid  the  lash  over 
the  backs  of  the  straining  bays.  But  they 
were  built  for  heavy  draft  work,  and  not 
for  speed;  they  were  already  doing  their 
best,  and,  whip  as  he  might,  Cosme  could 
get  no  more  than  that  from  them,  while 
Rupert's  horse  was  still  fresh.  Paying  no 
further  attention  to  the  Mexican,  Rupert 
now  bent  all  his  energies  to  trying  to  stop 
the  horses.  It  took  but  an  instant  to  pass 
them;  that  done  he  faced  his  pony  about 
squarely  in  their  path,  and  so  near  that,  as 
Vidette  came  to  a  full  stop,  the  end  of  the 
wagon  tongue  grazed  her  side.  She  held 
her  ground,  and,  despite  the  long,  stinging 
lash  that  the  Mexican  plied  frantically 
about  their  heads,  the  work  horses  would 
not,  as  he  tried  to  make  them,  run  down 
their  stable  companion.  They  swerved, 
rearing  and  backing,  threatening  momen 
tarily  to  overturn  the  wagon. 

In  the  midst  of  the  melee,  Cosme,  seeing 
the  uselessness  of  this  kind  of  resistance, 
suddenly  abandoned  the  whip  and  tried  to 
regain  control  of  the  horses  by  turning 
them  to  one  side,  obedient  to  the  pull  on 
the  lines,  the  frightened  creatures  came  in 
stantly  to  their  feet  and  started  forward. 
Rupert,  silent  and  rigid  as  a  statue,  stood 
up  in  his  stirrups  until  the  forward  end  of 
the  wagon-box  was  within  two  feet  of 
Vidette's  shoulders,  then  with  a  spring,  cat 
like  in  its  unexpectedness  and  agility,  he 
had  freed  his  feet  from  the  stirrups  and 
was  standing  on  the.  seat  of  the  saddle. 


You,   Cosmc,   stop!''     Rupert   shouted. 


18 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


17 


Another  spring,  and  he  was  in  the  wagon 
with  his  hand  on  the  Mexican's  throat. 

"  Say — say — now,  you — you  unutterable 
greaser — tell  me  what  you  mean  by  this !" 

As  Cosme  made  no  other  reply  than  to 
grasp  and  struggle,  the  muscular  young 
hand  tightened  its  grip  on  his  throat. 

"  Are  you  going  to  tell  me?"  Rupert  de 
manded  fiercely,  at  the  same  time  shaking 
his  victim  as  a  cat  shakes  a  mouse.  Cosme, 
strangling,  at  length  got  both  of  his  hands 
clasped  around  the  wrist  of  the  hand  that 
was  slowly  but  surely  choking  the  life  out 
of  him,  and  pulled  at  it  frantically,  until 
Rupert,  suddenly  aware  of  what  he  was 
doing,  relaxed  the  strangling  pressure  of 
his  fingers. 

"  You'd  better  get  under  way  and  tell  me 
what  you're  up  to,"  he  advised,  as  Cosme 
gaspingly  tried  to  recover  his  breath. 

"  Me,  how  was  it  I  could  tell  yo'  any 
thing  w'en  yo'  was  chokin'  me  to  death?" 
the  Mexican  sputtered,  in  an  aggrieved 
tone. 

"  It's  a  job  I'm  going  to  finish,  right 
now,  unless  you  tell  me." 

"  Me — I—  '  Cosme  began,  and  stopped. 
Rupert's  efficient  right  hand  was  at  his  side, 
and  he  was  standing  threateningly  over  the 
Mexican.  The  horses  had  been  whipped 
and  harried  into  such  a  state  of  terror  that 
any  word,  sound  or  movement  would  startle 
them.  With  a  yell  Cosme  suddenly  shied 
his  broad-brimmed,  pointed  hat  at  their 
heads;  they  sprang  forward,  jerking  Ru 
pert — as  Cosme  had  instantly  divined  would 
be  the  result — off  his  feet  and  down  into  the 
wagon-box,  where  he  sprawled  at  length. 
He  was  not  lying,  however,  exactly  as 
Cosme  had  anticipated  he  would,  for  if  the 
young  Mexican  was  quick,  the  young 
American  was  quicker.  Cosme  found  him 
self  in  the  unfortunate  predicament  of  the 
soldier — hoist  with  his  own  petard.  He  had 
succeeded,  it  was  true,  in  jerking  Rupert 
off  his  feet,  but  as  he  fell,  his  clutch  at 
Cosme  brought  that  individual  down  with, 
and  under,  him.  The  Mexican,  taken  com 


pletely  at  a  disadvantage,  was  powerless  to 
help  himself.  Rupert,  with  his  right  hand 
again  in  action  on  the  sinewy  brown  throat, 
planted  one  knee  on  Cosme's  chest,  and 
with  his  free  hand  gathered  in  the  lines 
that  were  in  imminent  danger  of  slipping 
beyond  his  reach.  Holding  the  gasping 
Mexican  down  steadily,  he  spoke  soothingly 
to  the  horses. 

"Whoa,  boys!  Whoa,  Ned!  Whoa, 
Frank !  Come,  now,  come,  that's  good 
boys  !  Come  !"  Accustomed  to  his  voice, 
and  to  associate  only  gentle  treatment  with 
it,  the  horses,  frightened  though  they  were, 
instantly  responded. 

They  were  standing  quietly,  and  the  lines 
were  wound  securely  around  the  brake 
handle,  when  Rupert  again  turned  his  at 
tention  to  the  Mexican. 

Cosme,  who  had  fully  realized  the  futility 
of  resistance  under  the  circumstances,  had 
not  suffered  so  much  as  during  his  previous 
brief  experience  of  strangulation. 

"Well?"  said  Rupert,  looking  down  into 
the  shifty  black  eyes  that  evaded  his  own, 
"  out  with  it !" 

"  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  tell,  me,"  re 
turned  Cosme,  sullenly.  "  It  was  w'at  you 
gringos  call  a  joke,  my  running  away  from 
you — jus'  a  joke.  Now  yo'  let  me  up,  an* 
I  go  straight  to  Pinos  Altos." 

"  No,  you  won't;  you'll  never  go  straight 
anywhere — not  as  long  as  you're  the  fellow 
you  are — but  I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  going 
to  do.  While  the  horses  are  getting  over 
their  scare,  I'm  going  to  put  in  the  time  in 
giving  you  a  dose  of  the  same  medicine 
you've  been  giving  them.  Get  out — get 
down  to  the  ground.  I'm  going  to  lick  you, 
good  and  plenty." 

As  Cosme  did  not  instantly  respond  to 
this  invitation,  Rupert  assisted  him  by  jerk 
ing  him  summarily  out  of  the  wagon. 

When  both  were  on  the  ground,  Rupert 
proceeded  to  make  good  his  promise,  until 
Cosme,  whimpering,  presently  entreated : 

"  Le'  me  go !  Le'  me  go !  Oh,  le'  me 
go  !  I  tell  yo'  true,  now  !" 


18 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


"See  that  you  do;  if  you  tell  me  any 
lies,  I'll  find  it  out,  and  I'll  give  you  a 
worse  dose  than  this  one  ever  thought  of 
being.  Where  were  you  headed  for?" 

"  For  the  witch  woman's  cave,  on  Sul 
phur  Butte,"  was  the  sullen  reply. 

The  Sulphur  Butte,  so  called  because  of 
its  color,  loomed  darkly  against  the  sky 
line  a  dozen  miles  away,  and,  as  Rupert 
looked  toward  it,  he  dimly  recalled  the  tra 
dition  among  the  Mexicans  of  a  very  an 
cient,  very  wise,  very  avaricious  old  woman 
who  dwelt,  keeping  mystic  state,  somewhere 
amid  its  shadows.  Declining  to  inquire 
into  the  motives  that  prompted  Cosine  to 
make  such  a  visit,  or  to  attempt  making  it, 
Rupert  went  on : 

"  How  about  your  trip  to  Pinos  Altos  for 
supplies?  You  were  headed  full  forty  miles 
out  of  your  way.  Did  you  intend  to  come 
back  to-morrow?" 

"Me?  No;  the  boss  he  would  know  if 
the  horses  they  was  use'  too  hard.  I  was 
goin'  say  the  wagon  she  break  down ;  have 
to  lay  over  on  road  one  day." 

Cosme,  dust-begrimed,  battered,  with 
blood  trickling  down  from  a  slight  cut 
where  Rupert's  knuckles  had  visited  his 
cheek  too  savagely,  was,  for  the  nonce, 
beaten.  It  was  patent  that  he  was  telling 
the  truth. 

"  Get  into  the  wagon  and  drive  back  to 
the  Pinos  Altos  road,  and  see  that  you  keep 
it,"  Rupert  ordered,  sternly. 

The  Mexican  climbed  into  the  wagon, 
and  from  that  vantage  turned  appealingly 
to  the  young  American : 

"  Was  yo'  goin'  le'  on,  back  at  ranch, 
w'at  it  was  I  was  tryin'  do?"  he  asked. 

"Is  that  any  of  your  business?" 

"  Yes.  Me,  I  don't  care.  My  fadder  he 
no  good  to  me;  I  ain't  got  no  other  place 
but  ranch  for  go  to.  If  you  was  tell  the 
boss,  me,  I  might  jus*  as  well  be  all  dead 
now  as  any  time." 

"  Set  your  mind  at  rest  on  that  score,  you 
coward.  I'm  no  telltale." 

Cosme,  content  with  this — which  he  knew 


to  be  strictly  true — started  the  team,  and 
Rupert  walked  back  to  where  Vidette  stood 
waiting,  mounted,  and  himself  started  back 
toward  the  herd  that  he  expected  to  find 
still  grazing  where  he  had  left  them. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
AN  INVITATION  TO  A  DANCE. 

THE  cattle  had  almost  immediately  dis 
covered  the  absence  of  the  herder, 
and  not  caring  to  penetrate  into  a 
country  that  was  new  to  them,  began  graz 
ing  in  the  direction  of  their  old  range. 
With  a  dawning  sense  of  liberty,  haste 
grew  upon  them,  and  when,  two  full  hours 
after  his  encounter  with  Cosme,  Rupert  re 
turned,  it  was  to  find  himself  alone  on  the 
mesa,  with  no  herd  in  sight;  moreover,  a 
glance  at  the  sun  told  him  that  it  was 
quite  ten  o'clock,  and  his  father  would  be 
expecting  him  at  the  round-up  camp.  His 
heart  sank  as  he  realized  what  the  en 
counter  with  Cosme  might  cost  him — the 
more  that,  no  matter  what  came,  he  was  not 
one  to  make  explanations  or  excuses  that 
could,  by  any  stretch  of  ingenuity,  be  con 
strued  into  clearing  his  own  record  at  the 
expense  of  another. 

By  what  perverted  idea  of  moral  obliga 
tion  Rupert  was  guided  in  this  matter  of 
not  disclosing  the  guilt  of  another,  espe 
cially  when  his  father  was  fully  entitled  to 
know  of  that  guilt,  it  would  be  hard  to  say. 
In  justice  to  his  father  he  should  have  tried 
to  enlighten  him  as  to  the  Mexican's  true 
character,  and  in  common  kindness  to  the 
dumb  animals  placed  in  Cosme's  charge,  he 
was  also  in  duty  bound  to  tell  what  he 
knew,  but  he  took  a  certain  savage  pride  in 
sticking  to  the  letter  of  his  declaration 
when  he  had  informed  the  Mexican  that  he 
"  was  no  tell-tale." 

For  a  long  time  after  reaching  the  de 
serted  grazing  ground,  Rupert  stood  up  in 
his  stirrups  and  bent  his  keen  glances  far 
and  near  in  search  of  the  missing  cattle. 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


19 


He  was  well  enough  versed  in  the  ways  of 
herds  to  know  that  they  had  undoubtedly 
headed  for  their  old  range,  a  long  distance 
in  the  opposite  direction  from  the  one  that 
he  wished  them  to  take.  He  was  soon 
upon  their  trail,  and  a  few  miles  brought 
him  up  with  them;  they  were  trotting  stead 
ily  toward  the  old  range,  and  it  soon  be 
came  evident  that  they  had  no  intention 
of  abandoning  their  purpose  of  reaching  it. 

It  was  long  before  Rupert  was  able  to 
turn  them  on  the  back  track,  and  that  he 
did  so  at  all  spoke  volumes  for  his  perse 
verance  and  the  good  qualities  of  his  horse. 
Back  and  forth,  to  and  fro,  now  this  way, 
now  that,  raced  the  pony  and  his  young 
rider,  minute  after  minute,  hour  after  hour, 
until,  late  in  the  afternoon,  the  sullen  brutes 
were  as  far  on  the  right  track  again  as  the 
sky  pasture  down  which  Nora  had  seen 
her  brother's  pony  galloping.  Having  got 
them  so  far,  the  tired  and  hungry  boy 
realized  that  with  night  coming  on  he  could 
do  no  more  without  help.  It  was  cold,  too, 
and  growing  colder.  He  checked  the  faith 
ful  little  bronco,  whose  heaving  sides  \vere 
wet  with  foam,  and  looked  desolately  off 
in  the  direction  of  home ;  there  was  nothing 
to  be  seen  there  now  but  an  obscuring 
ocean  of  fog.  He  was  very  hungry.  Sup 
pose  he  rode  home,  got  something  to  ea'. 
and  a  warm  coat,  and  came  back  to  keep 
guard  over  the  cattle  all  night?  He 
thought  them  tired  enough  to  stay  where 
they  were  if  they  were  watched,  but  it 
wrung  his  heart  to  think  of  putting  this 
extra  work  upon  the  pony,  who  was  already 
trembling  with  fatigue. 

"  Maybe  father  '11  let  me  take  Snowflake, 
if  he's  got  the  bay  colt  used  up,  as  he  prob 
ably  has,"  thought  Rupert,  with  very  small 
hope  indeed  that  the  valuable  white  mare 
would  be  entrusted  to  him  through  the  try 
ing  hours  of  an  all-night  guard. 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  bring  me  back 
if  I  do  go,  Vidette,"  he  said  aloud,  at  last; 
"  and  so  I  won't  go."  The  cattle,  although 
seemingly  quiet,  were  still  alertly  ready  to 


make  a  break  for  freedom  at  any  unguarded 
instant,  and  Rupert  began  slowly  circling 
round  them.  This  is  the  cowboy's  usual 
hint  to  his  charges  that  they  may  settle 
down  where  they  are.  A  few  of  them  took 
the  hint.  The  pony  was.  very  tired  and 
walked  with  lagging  footsteps.  In  the 
silence,  broken  only  by  her  slow  footfall, 
Rupert  had  scarcely  time  to  become  aware 
of  a  sound  of  trampling  hoofs,  when  three 
horsemen  burst  into  View,  much  as  though 
they  had  been  mysteriously  projected  on  a 
canvas  of  fog.  Rupert  recognized  them 
joyfully  as  herders  from  the  7-H  Ranch 
from  over  on  the  Vermijo. 

"  Where  you  goin'  ?"  demanded  the  fore 
most,  as  they  halted  beside  him. 

Rupert  candidly  explained  what  had  be 
fallen  him.  These  men  had  not  heard,  any 
more  than  had  Rupert  himself,  of  the  acci 
dent  that  his  father  had  suffered,  but  they 
were  none  the  less  cordial  and  sympathetic. 
One  remembered  that  he  had  some  lunch  in 
his  saddle  pocket,  and  an  instant  afterward 
Rupert  was  sampling  it  with  relish. 

Suddenly  one  of  their  number  exclaimed, 
"  Boys,  I'll  tell  you  what  let's  do:  we'll  help 
this  kid  run  this  bunch  of  steers  into  the 
old  Valdez  corral.  It  ain't  more  'n  half  a 
mile  or  so  out  of  our  way;  then  he  can 
start  'em  out  again  to-morrow  and  chase 
'em  all  day  if  he  wants  to." 

"  I  reckon  I've  had  chasing  enough  to  do 
me  for  a  day  or  two,"  answered  Rupert. 
"  But  that's  a  mighty  good  plan  of  yours, 
and  I'll  be  everlastingly  obliged  to  you  all 
if  you'll  help  me  to  carry  it  out." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right ;  we  won't  leave  you 
now  till  you're  out  of  this  scrape,"  returned 
the  spokesman  of  the  little  party.  "  We 
was  kind  of  hopin'  to  meet  up  with  you, 
anyway,"  he  went  on.  "  There's  goin'  to 
be  a  dance  at  the  7-H  to-morrow  night, 
and  we'd  like  first-rate  to  have  you  come. 
De  Vargas  is  goin'  to  play." 

"  De  Vargas!  Is  he?"  A  thrill  seemed 
to  go  through  Rupert's  veins;  he  lifted  his 
eyes  to  the  bronzed  face  of  his  companion. 


20 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


"  Yes ;  them  Perrez  folks  are  kin  to  him 
in  some  way,  and  he's  there  on  a  visit  now. 
It'll  be  a  big  thing  to  have  him  to  play, 
won't  it?" 

"  I  should  say  so !"  replied  Rupert,  slow 
ly.  The  fame  of  the  Mexican  violinist  had 
penetrated  even  beyond  the  boundaries  of 
his  far  Southwestern  home.  Rupert  had 
already  forgotten  that  he  was  hungry;  the 
slice  cf  bread  that  he  had  been  eating  fell 
unnoticed  from  his  hand.  "  I'd  like  to  go," 
he  said,  as  they  urged  the  unwilling  cattle 
slowly  forward,  "  but  I  don't  know  as  I 
can;  I  will  if  I  can." 

"  All  right.  We'll  keep  a  place  for  you," 
was  the  gay  response. 

A  herd  of  tame  sheep  could  not  have 
been  more  submissive  than  was  this  same 
rebellious  herd  when  they  found  four  horse 
men  pitted  against  them  instead  of  one; 
the  wildest  among  them  only  ventured  to 
snort  and  shy  a  little  when,  from  out  the 
mist  in  front,  a  girl,  mounted  on  a  bay 
colt,  her  hair  streaming  behind  her,  and 
her  face  pale  with  anxiety,  burst  suddenly 
upon  them.  Rupert  was  the  first  to  dis 
cover  what  had  startled  *them.  "  Hello, 
Nora!  How  came  you  here?"  he  called, 
eagerly. 

'*  I  saw  you,  and  I  came  to  help." 

"  You've  got  mighty  good  eyes,  and  I'd 
have  been  glad  enough  of  your  help  if 
someone  else  hadn't  got  in  ahead  of  you. 
This  is  my  sister,  Nora  Carrol,"  he  intro 
duced  her  to  the  cowboy  who  chanced  to  be 
nearest. 

The  cowboy — whose  name  Rupert  had 
forgotten,  if  he  ever  knew — snatched  off  his 
wide-brimmed  hat  with  a  sweeping  obei 
sance.  It  struck  him,  in  the  hasty  half- 
glance  that  the  exigencies  of  the  case  per 
mitted,  that  Carrol  had  more  than  one  rea 
son  for  feeling  proud  of  a  sister  like  that. 

The  refractory  steers  were  safely  cor- 
raled  at  last,  and  the  three  friendly  cow 
boys  bade  brother  and  sister  a  cordial  good 
night. 

"  We-all  will  watch  out  for  you,   sure, 


to-morrow  night,"  one  called  back,  cheer 
fully,  "  and  if  you  don't  come  we-all  will 
serenade  you  with  cornstalk  fiddles." 

As  their  breezy  laughter  floated  back  to 
them  through  the  shrouding  mist,  Nora 
was  conscious  of  feeling  a  pang  of  envy 
for  their  light  spirits.  Their  presence  had 
kept  at  bay  for  the  moment  the  heavy  sense 
of  trouble  that  now  enveloped  her  again 
as  she  turned  to  give  Rupert  further  de 
tails  of  their  father's  accident,  and  now, 
with  more  leisure  to  think  the  matter  over 
than  when  she  had  first  told  him,  the  same 
idea  occurred  to  Rupert  that  had  occurred 
to  his  grandmother :  "  I  don't  see  why  fa 
ther  tried  to  do  such  work;  he  never  did 
before." 

"  He  was  kind  of  put  out,  Fred  said," 
Nora  explained,  hesitatingly. 

Rupert's  face  flushed.  Certain  faint 
lines,  that  the  molding  hand  of  Time  might 
eventually  chisel  into  the  semblance  of  a 
hard  mask,  deepened  about  his  sensitive  lips. 

"  That  means  that  he  manages  to  put  the 
blame  for  the  accident  on  me,"  he  said, 
bitterly.  "  I  reckon  he  got  angry  because 
I  didn't  show  up  the  minute  he  expected 
me,  and  so  just  rushed  into  anything  that 
came  along,  out  of  spite." 

Nora's  bent  head  drooped  yet  lower. 

"  You  are  speaking  of  father,  Rupert," 
she  said,  sadly. 

Rupert's  only  reply  was  an  angry  excla 
mation  and  the  advice,  proffered  in  no  gen 
tle  tone: 

"Don't  try  to  be  a  saint;  you'll  make  a 
botch  of  it  if  you  do." 


CHAPTER  V. 
FATHER  AND  SON. 

A3   BROTHER  and   sister  neared   the 
ranch  house  on  "the  evening  of  the 
belated    round-up,    Rupert    relapsed 
into  gloomy  silence,  his  thoughts  dwelling 
apprehensively,  yet  resentfully,  on  what  his 
father  might  be  expected  to  say  when  he 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


21 


learned  the  outcome  of  Rupert's  attempt  to 
drive  their  neighbor's  cattle  to  a  new  range. 

"  As  Patrick  Henry  says,"  he  burst  out 
suddenly,  "  '  The  only  lamp  by  which  my 
feet  are  guided  is  the  lamp  of  experience,' 
and  judging  by  my  experience  in  the  past, 
I  know  that  father  will  be  red  hot  at  me — 
I  wish  that  he  wouldn't.  If  he  only  knew 
what  Cos —  He  checked  himself  as  the 
Mexican's  name  almost  slipped  from  his 
lips,  and  completed  the  sentence  adroitly: 
"  co'se.  I  have  taken — 

"  '  Co'se  ' !"  Nora's  nose  uptilted  in  dis 
satisfaction.  "  I  wish,  Rupert,  that  you 
wouldn't  affect  that  Southern  cowboy  pro 
nunciation.  I  don't  see,  just  because  we 
happen  to  be — well,  marooned  in  this  wild 
country,  why  we  can't  at  least  keep  our  lan 
guage  pure." 

"  Marooned  in  this  wild  country."  Ru 
pert  musingly  repeated  the  sentiment  that 
had  especially  claimed  his  attention,  and 
then  went  on  with  the  engaging  smile  that 
won  him  friends  wherever  he  went: 

"  When  one  comes  to  reckon  it  all  up,  I 
don't  know  who  can  blame  father  for  get 
ting  mad ;  he  has  reason  enough,  and  he'll 
do  it,  all  right." 

His  face  clouded  again  as  he  continued : 
"  It  does  seem  to  me,  Nora,  that  I  don't 
more  than  have  time  to  crawl  out  of  one 
scrape  before  I'm  head  over  heels  into  an 
other;  and,  without  exception,  the  latest 
scrape  is  worse  than  the  one  that  went  be 
fore  it." 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  Nora  said,  sympathet 
ically.  Being  an  essentially  truthful  char 
acter  she  did  not  attempt  to  refute  the 
statement.  She  sighed  as  she  added,  with 
apparent  irrelevance:  "The  doctor  said 
that  father  ought  not  to  be  excited  in  any 
way;  that  he  ought  to  be  kept  quiet." 

"  Well,  say,  then,  suppose  for  his  own 
sake  that  we  don't  mention  this  latest  ex 
ploit  at  all  ?  Let  him  think  that  I  got  the  cat 
tle  over  to  the  range  all  right,  but  that  I  had 
trouble  with  them — which  was  why  I  was 
late  for  the  round-up.  I  had  the  trouble — 


that's  no  dream — but  he'd  be  surprised  to 
learn  how  much  more  trouble  I  had  with 
another  kind  of  cattle —  Rupert  checked 
himself  quickly.  He  was  wont  to  confide 
everything  to  Nora. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Nothing.  In  the  morning  I'll  start  out 
early  and  get  the  bunch  to  the  far  side  of 
the  mesa.  There'll  be  no  more  harm  done 
than  has  been  done  already,  and,  since  he's 
in  a  nervous  condition,  anyway,  he  need 
know  nothing  about  it." 

"  Why — don't  you  think — wouldn't  that 
be  deceiving  him?"  Nora  queried  doubt 
fully.  She  was  a  year  younger  than  Ru 
pert,  and  ready  in  all  things  to  admit  his 
superiority — only,  her  nature  was  of  the 
frankest,  and  she  did  not  take  at  all  natu 
rally  to  evasions. 

"No,  it  wouldn't;  it  would  be  simply 
keeping  back  a  little  of  the  truth  for  his 
good." 

"  Suppose  you  have  trouble  again  to 
morrow — or  that  we  have,  for  I'm  going 
with  you — we'd  be  sorry,  then,  that  we 
hadn't  told  him  all  about  it  this  time." 

Rupert  stifled  a  sigh  of  relief  as  Nora 
made  the  announcement  that  she  intended 
to  accompany  him  next  day,  and  responded 
perversely :  "  We're  not  likely  to  have  any 
trouble;  I  shouldn't  have  had  any  to-day, 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  Cosme — confound 
him  !" 

As  she  had  previously  wondered  how 
Rupert  could  be  to  blame  for  her  father's 
accident,  Nora  now  wondered  how  Cosme 
could  be  held  accountable  for  Rupert's 
negligence;  between  the  two  peppery  tem 
pers,  however,  the  girl  had  learned  a  dis 
cretion  beyond  her  years.  Her  task  now, 
as  always,  was  to  prevent  collision,  if  pos 
sible,  so  she  held  her  peace,  and  Rupert, 
who  was  tired,  hungry  and  cross,  burst  out : 

"  I  reckon  I'm  as  sorry  as  anyone  that 
father  is  hurt;  I  don't  want  to  excite  and 
make  him  worse.  But,  of  course,  if  you 
feel  like  telling,  you're  going  to  do  it.  You 
don't  care  how  much  trouble  you  make  me. 


22 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


Care!  I  believe  you  like  to  do  it,  just  so 
you  get  your  own  skirts  clear." 

"  Rupert,  do  you  think  father  would  have 
approved  of  my  taking  this  colt  and  riding 
out  to  help  you,  if  he  had  known  of  it?" 
Nora  asked,  in  a  broken  voice. 

This  reminder  of  a  risk,  and  possible 
danger,  encountered  for  his  sake,  shamed 
the  boy,  but  the  suspicion  of  tears  in  the 
broken  voice  also  irritated  him. 

"Oh,  that's  right!  Now  cry!"  he  ex 
claimed  bitterly.  "  A  fellow  can't  speak 
to  you  without  you  begin  crying." 

A  few  yards  more,  passed  over  in  silence, 
brought  them  to  the  stable  door,  in  which 
a  lighted  lantern  was  hanging. 

"  Grandma  has  been  watching  for  us," 
Nora  said,  as  she  drew  rein  in  the  little 
circle  of  light  that  it  threw  upon  the  en 
croaching  fog.  Before  she  could  slip  from 
the  bay  colt's  back,  Rupert,  with  Vidette's 
bridle  over  his  arm,  was  at  her  side. 

"  Let  me  help  you  down,"  he  said,  gently, 
holding  up  his  arms.  As  Nora's  feet 
touched  the  ground  he  laid  his  face  against 
her  cheek  for  an  instant.  "  Don't  be  mad 
at  me.  Nora,"  he  whispered.  "  You  and 
grandma  afre  awful  good  and  I'm  awful 
mean." 

Nora's  eyelashes  were  still  wet  as  she 
answered,  with  a  little  gurgling  laugh,  "  I 
know  you  are,  but  I'm  not  mad." 

"You  think  I  ought  to  tell,  though?" 
Rupert  insisted,  ^with  an  eager  glance  into 
her  face. 

"  I  won't  tell.  I'll  promise  that,  Rupert, 
for  I  know  that  you'll  do  what's  right  about 
it,  without  any  help  of  mine." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  returned 
Rupert,  grimly. 

Leaving  him  to  care  for  the  horses,  she 
went  on  into  the  house. 

Mrs.  Easton  had  shrewdly  surmised 
what  had  become  of  her  as  soon  as  she 
missed  Nora  that  evening.  Her  surmises 
had  become  certainties  as  soon  as  she 
hastened  out  to  the  barn  and  found  the 
bay  colt  missing  also.  Now  she  greeted  her 


granddaughter's  entrance  with  a  low-toned 
inquiry: 

"  Did  you  find  Rupert?" 

Nora  nodded  silently,  and  her  grand 
mother,  with  the  wisdom  that  ripens  best 
under  gray  hairs,  asked  no  more,  though 
burning  with  curiosity  on  the  subject. 

"  I  dunno's  you'll  believe  me,"  she  went 
on,  in  her  usual  tone,  as  she  passed  from 
the  living-room  into  the  kitchen,  whence 
Mr.  Carrol's  bedroom  opened,  "  when  I  tell 
you  that  that  black  hen  has  hatched  out 
fourteen  chicks  from  thirteen  eggs;  thirteen 
eggs  was  just  what  I  give  her,  and  when 
I  went  out  to  the  barn  to  look  at  her  a 
spell  ago,  I  could  skurce  believe  my  eyes. 
Fourteen  chicks !  Of  course,  one  of  the 
eggs  was  a  double-yelked  one." 

Mr.  Carrol,  by  the  doctor's  directions, 
was  well  under  the  influence  of  opiates,  but 
he  roused  up  enough  to  murmur  drowsily 
in  answer  to  this  statement :  "  Or  else  some 
other  hen  laid  in  the  nest  while  she  was 
sitting.  Has  Rupert  got  back?" 

"Rupert?  Oh,  yes,  he's  back;  he's  just 
finishing  up  'round  the  stable." 

"  Very  well ;  send  him  to  me  as  soon  as 
he  comes  in." 

Out  at  the  stable,  as  he  went  about  his 
evening  chores,  Rupert  was  having  a  hard 
wrestle  with  his  conscience.  In  vain  he 
tried  to  convince  himself  that  it  would  be 
better,  all  round,  for  him  to  gloss  over  the 
day's  proceedings,  leaving  the  exact  truth 
untold,  but  there  was  Nora — Nora,  who 
always  seemed  as  far  above  deceit  or  pre 
varication  as  the  stars  were  above  the 
earth,  and  to  whom  obedience  to  their  fa 
ther  was  a  kind  of  religion,  yet  who  had 
braved  his  displeasure,  as  well  as  taken  a 
deadly  risk,  in  mounting  a  half-broken  colt, 
wholly  unused  to  the  fluttering  skirts  of  a 
girl  rider,  to  come  to  his — Rupert's — aid. 
Nora  was  no  coward,  if  she  was  a  girl.  It 
seemed  to  him,  suddenly,  hardly  fair  that 
Nora's  brother  should  be  guilty  of  a  sneak 
ing  or  cowardly  act,  either — hardly  fair  to 
her. 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


23 


"  The  reason  that  I  don't  want  to  tell 
the  truth  is  because  I'm  afraid  to — just 
afraid  of  father's  tongue,  that's  all.  '  It 
biteth  like  an  adder,  it  stingeth  like  a  ser 
pent,'  "  thought  the  boy,  lingering  in  the 
solitude  of  the  barn  to  review  the  situation, 
and  getting  a  good  deal  mixed  in  the  prac 
tical  application  of  his  Scriptural  lore. 
"  I  reckon  I'm  several  kinds  of  a  coward," 
the  boy  continued  in  his  solitary  musing; 
"  but  I  would  hate  to  have  Nora  blamed, 
too,  as  she  would  be,  if  father  finds  out  that 
she  knows  something  that  she  isn't  willing 
to  tell  him,  and  the  fault  all  mine !" 
Which  was  Rupert's  first  realization  of  the 
great  truth  that  one  may  not  be  mean,  or 
cowardly,  or  selfish,  to  himself  alone,  but 
that  the  result  of  the  thing  that  he  is,  or 
does,  will  surely  affect  in  some  degree  all 
of  those  with  whom  his  Jife  is  intimately 
associated. 

On  a  shelf  in  Vidette's  stall  lay  an  oddly- 
shaped,  oblong  case  of  dark  wood.  Tired, 
hungry,  cold,  with  a  weight  of  trouble  on 
his  young  heart,  a  compassionate  yearning 
over  the  father  whom  he  yet  dreaded  to 
face,  a  longing  to  comfort  and  to  be  com 
forted,  Rupert  yet  waited,  after  the  chores 
were  all  done,  before  he  sought  the  shelter 
ing  warmth  of  the  house,  to  hold  up  the 
lantern  and  look  at  it — only  at  the  case  that 
covered  his  treasure.  Once  he  stretched 
out  his  hand  and  stroked  the  insensate 
wood  tenderly.  One  saw,  then,  that  the 
boy's  long,  slender,  flexible  fingers  were 
those  of  the  born  musician.  "  Father  says 
that  my  playing  sets  his  teeth  on  edge,"  he 
murmured,  half  aloud.  "  I  wonder  if  he 
would  send  De  Vargas  out  to  the  barn  to 
play  !" 

With  a  farewell  glance  to  see  that  all  was 
snug  for  the  night,  and  a  smile  for  the 
white  mare,  who,  not  finding  her  ration  of 
alfalfa  hay  exactly  to  her  taste,  was  tossing 
it  daintily  on  the  floor,  bit  by  bit,  Rupert 
took  the  lantern  and  went  out,  locking  the 
door  after  himself  with  the  key  that  Nora 
had  found  time  to  bring  him. 


Supper  was  on  the  table  when  Rupert  en 
tered  the  kitchen,  and  his  grandmother  said, 
"  You'd  better  set  right  down  and  eat, 
Rupert.  Your  pa  he's  had  his  supper — he 
wouldn't  eat  nothin'  but  a  cup  of  coffee — 
and  I  guess  he's  dozin'  now." 

"How  is  he?"  Rupert  asked,  as  he  pro 
ceeded  to  wash  his  face  and  hands  at  the 
sink  near  the  door. 

"  He's  as  comfortable  as  can  be  expected, 
and  he's  uncommon  quiet;  he's  skurcely 
spoke  since  the  doctor  left." 

This  was  not  at  all  what  Rupert  had  ex 
pected;  he  had  thought  that  the  wounded 
man  would  be  fuming  with  impatience,  and 
the  reverse  picture  conjured  up  by  his 
grandmother's  words  was  so  awe-inspiring 
that  for  the  first  time  he  completely  lost 
sight  of  his  own  discomfiture.  His  ablu 
tions  finished,  and  his  dark  hair  neatly 
brushed,  he  said,  softly,  "  I  reckon  I'll  just 
tiptoe  in  and  take  a  look  at  him,  grandma; 
if  he's  asleep  I  won't  disturb  him." 

Mr.  Carrol  was  not  asleep ;  he  opened  his 
eyes  as  his  ears  caught  the  boy's  faint  foot 
fall,  and  looked  at  him  steadily;  all  the 
pain  and  disappointment  of  the  day  just 
past  swept  over  him  again  in  a  wave  of 
angry  recollection  as  the  boy's  troubled 
gaze  met  his.  He  raised  himself  upon  his 
elbow,  regardless  of  the  pain  the  move 
ment  cost,  and  glared  at  his  son  in  white 
wrath.  "  So  you've  got  around  at  last, 
have  you?  Well,  you  can  look  at  me  and 
see  a  part  of  your  day's  work;  now  tell 
me  about  the  rest  of  it." 

"  There's  nothing  to  tell,"  returned 
Rupert,  rebelliously,  all  the  pity  that  he 
had  felt  for  his  father  hardening  into  de 
fiance. 

"  Nothing  to  tell !"  echoed  the  other,  in 
fury.  "  Give  an  account  of  yourself,  sir, 
or,  I  swear,  I'll  set  Cosme  to  dog  your 
footsteps  after  this.  I'll  have  an  account 
of  you  from  someone  whom  I  can  trust." 

"  I  should  say — not  that  I'm  called  on  to 
make  observations,"  remarked  Mrs.  Easton, 
who  had  followed  Rupert  into  the  room, 


24 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


"  that  that  was  about  as  unfeelin'  a  speech 
as  any  parent  could  get  off  to  any  child; 
let  alone  gettin'  it  off  to  an  only  son,  and 
a  good  one." 

"Never  mind,  grandma;  if  father  feels 
like  setting  his  hired  boy — and  a  greaser  at 
that — to  keep  watch  of  me,  I'll  make  it  a 
point  to  see  that  he  earns  his  wages.  I'll 
give  him  something  to  do,"  said  Rupert. 

"  You  ungrateful  serpent !  Have  you  no 
sense  of  shame,  no  remorse  for  what  you 
have  done,  when  you  see  me  lying  here  as 
the  result  of  your  criminal  folly?"  roared 
the  invalid. 

"That  sounds  like  as  if  you  might  have 
read  it  out  of  a  book,  James,"  interposed 
Mrs.  Easton,  amiably;  "and  if  you  did, 
you  know  yourself  that  there  ain't  much 
use  in  belaborin'  a  serpent,  'count  of  its 
bein'  ungrateful.  A  serpent,  accordin'  to 
my  knowledge  of  natural  history,  is  un 
grateful  because  it's  like  them  dogs  in  that 
hymn  of  Mr.  Wattses — you  remember 
about  that  hymn :  '  Let  dogs  delight  to  bark 
and  bite,  for  'tis  their  nature  to ' — that's 
the  way  it  runs,"  the  old  lady  concluded, 
with  a  countenance  of  really  cherubic  in 
nocence. 

Racked  with  pain,  and  secretly  very 
much  ashamed  of  his  outburst,  Mr.  Carrol 
sank  back  upon  his  pillow.  "  You  may  as 
well  go,"  he  said,  coldly,  to  Rupert. 

"  Not  until  I  have  told  you  why  I  came 
so  late,  father,"  Rupert  said,  approaching 
the  bed  again  and  looking  wistfully  at  his 
father. 

"  Go  on,  then,"  was  the  answer. 

The  lad  recited  the  history  of  the  day's 
proceedings,  or,  it  should  be  said,  as  much 
of  the  day's  proceedings  as  it  seemed  to  him 
at  all  advisable  to  relate.  In  making  the 
suppressions  that  he  did,  he  was  actuated 
solely  by  a  desire  to  do  the  right  and  hon 
orable  thing  by  all  concerned,  and,  while 
under  no  illusions  in  regard  to  sparing 
Cosme — who  deserved  no  consideration 
whatever — he  yet  had  a  mistaken,  fanciful 
idea  that  it  would  not  be  honorable  in  him 


to  tell  tales,  even  on  one  who  had  proved 
himself  so  unworthy.  The  much  less  im 
portant  matter  of  failing  to  mention  Nora's 
part  in  the  day's  work  he  passed  over  with 
no  twinges  of  conscience,  assured  that  Nora 
herself  would  speak  of  it. 

When  Rupert's  story  was  ended,  Mr. 
Carrol  lay  for  a  long  minute  silently  re 
viewing  in  his  mind  all  of  its  points;  then 
he  said,  with  a  good  deal  less  temper  than 
might  have  been  expected,  even  with  a 
faint  suggestion  of  apology  in  his  tones : 

"  I  see  that  you've  had  a  hard  day.  So 
have  I.  I  reckon  it  makes  me  unreason 
able.  Of  course,  you  were  not  to  blame 
for  my  making  a  fool  of  myself  by  trying 
to  cut  out  cattle  with  a  green  colt.  I  can 
take  all  the  glory  for  that  myself." 

"  Father,"  said  Nora,  quickly,  as  Mr. 
Carrol  relapsed  into  silence,  "  I  took  the 
bay  colt  and  went  out  to  help  Rupert." 

"Did  you?  It  was  a  reckless  thing  to 
do — terribly  reckless — but  it  seems  there 
was  no  harm  done." 


CHAPTER  VI. 
A  VIOLIN  SOLO. 

OME,  now,  Rupert,  set  right  down 
and  eat  your  supper,"  Mrs.  Easton 
again  urged,  as  the  trio  filed  into 
the  kitchen. 

"  I'm  not  hungry.  I  don't  want  any  sup 
per,"  Rupert  declared,  and,  snatching  up 
his  cap,  walked  to  the  outer  door,  closing 
it  sharply  as  he  strode  out  into  the  dark 
ness  of  the  moonless  night. 

Mrs.  Easton  stared  at  the  closed  door 
for  an  instant,  then,  dropping  into  a  chair, 
buried  her  face  in  the  folds  of  her  apron. 

"  Without  was  wailin',  and  darkness, 
and  gnashin'  of  teeth !"  she  murmured. 

"  Oh,  grandma,  grandma,  don't  cry ! 
Don't  cry!"  Nora  implored,  putting  an 
arm  around  the  shaking  shoulders.  "  Oh, 
grandma,  I've  heard  you  say,  lots  of  times, 
that  if  we  only  trust — " 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


25 


"  Only  trust !"  Mrs.  Easton  echoed  the 
word  with  concentrated  bitterness.  "  That's 
just  it,  exactly !  The  idea  of  our  settin' 
'round,  like  a  couple  of  stoughton  bottles, 
only  trusting,  while  them  two-edged  swords 
are  hackin'  away  &t  each  other's  hearts !" 

Nora  had  nothing  to  say  to  this.  All  the 
little  anchors  and  wise  saws  as  to  doing 
one's  duty,  regardless  of  consequences, 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  failed  both  her 
and  her  grandmother  in  their  time  of  need. 

Indeed,  it  was  a  distinct  shock  to  dis 
cover  that  her  grandmother  had,  in  effect, 
scornfully  repudiated  her  own  philosophy 
when  it  came  to  making  a  personal  appli 
cation  of  it. 

Nora  sat  down  at  the  table,  propped  her 
chin  on  her  folded  hands,  and  set  herself 
soberly  to  studying  out,  if  it  could  be  done, 
some  solution  of  the  growing  difficulty  be 
tween  father  and  son.  That  it  was  a 
growing  difficulty  it  was  useless  to  deny, 
to  herself,  at  least. 

With  her  grave  eyes  fixed  upon  the  yel 
low  flame  of  the  kerosene  lamp,  she  seemed 
looking  beyond  the  homely  domestic  con 
venience — beyond,  and  into  a  future  where 
Rupert,  if  this  trouble  continued  unchecked, 
wandered  alone — alone — into  what  far,  un 
happy  countries. 

Young  as  she  was,  she  yet  saw,  with  a 
solemn  and  prophetic  understanding  of 
what  it  all  meant,  a  lonely,  sensitive,  im 
pulsive  and  stubborn  boy,  drifting  farther 
and  farther  away  from  home  and  all  re 
straining  ties,  into  what  outer  darkness 
who  could  tell?  A  blow  could  not  have 
hurt  her  so  much  as  did  her  father's,  reck 
less  threat  of  setting  Cosme  to  dog  Rupert's 
footsteps.  "  As  if  he  expected  to  find 
Rupert  doing  something  mean !"  she 
thought,  indignantly.  But  repentance  in 
stantly  followed  what  seemed  a  disloyal 
thought  toward  her  father.  "  It  was  pain 
that  made  him  say  it — just  the  pain,"  she 
said,  unconsciously  speaking  aloud. 

"  Yes,"  returned  her  grandmother,  mis 
understanding  her,  "  it's  a  dretful  painful 


thing  to  have  happen."  She  remained  be 
hind  the  eclipse  of  the  gingham  apron  for 
a  moment  longer,  and  then  came  out  to  add : 
"  But  I  suppose  it'll  blow  over;  such  things 
most  generally  do.  It  would  be  easier  to 
bear  while  it's  blowin'  over  if  we  could 
feel  sure  that  it  wouldn't  all  blow  up  again. 
Still,"  she  continued,  pinning  her  faith  once 
more  to  one  of  her  two  great  sheet  anchors, 
"  what  does  Mr.  Watts  say?  '  I  would  not 
live  alway ;  I  ask  not  to  stay,  where  storm 
after  storm  broodeth  dark  o'er  the  way.' 
You  see,  these  things  are  ordained  for  our 
good  in  this  way — every  flare-up  makes  us 
the  more  willin'  to  quit  this  earthly  scene 
and  go  where  flare-ups  are  no  more." 

"  You  mean,  grandma,  that  these  trou 
bles  are  for  our  good,  don't  you?  Just 
you  and  me  ?  But  how  about  father  and 
Rupert?" 

"  I  didn't  say  anything  about  them, 
Eleanor.  How  can  I  tell  just  what  the 
Lord  is  up  to  ?  One  thing  I  am  afraid  of — 
I'm  dretfully  afraid  of  it,  child." 

The  gingham  apron  was  brought  into 
requisition  again  as  she  went  on :  "  I'm 
afraid  that  the  Lord  ain't  got  Rupert  in 
the  holler  of  his  hand,  so  to  say,  as  he 
has  you.  Why,  you'd  be  safe  to  do  the 
right  thing  if  you  was  set  down  in  the 
midst  of  a  band  of  howlin'  savages.  Why, 
even  if  they  wanted  to  make  soup  of  you," 
the  old  lady  continued  in  forceful  illustra 
tion,  "  you'd  manage  to  find  time  to  tell 
'em  the  best  way  to  do  it,  'cordin'  to  your 
lights,  and  to  help  'em  every  way  you 
could;  but  Rupert  he'd  resent  it." 

"  I  daresay  he  would,"  Nora  admitted, 
her  distress  visibly  lightened  as  this  picture 
presented  itself  vividly  before  her  imagina 
tion.  "  But  that  isn't  because  I'm  any  bet 
ter  than  he  is,  or — 

"  Well,  for  the  land's  sakes,  Eleanor 
Carrol !  Who  has  ever  so  much  as  inti 
mated  that  you  are  any  better?" 

"  No  one,  grandma.  I  was  only  going  to 
say  that  it's  because  I'm  more  stupid." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that.     You  are 


26 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


different;  and  then  he's  a  boy."  After  a 
little  silence,  during  which  she  seemed  to 
be  reflecting  profoundly,  Mrs.  Easton  said: 

"  When  I  was  a  girl,  my  father  he  used 
to  put  up  a  barrel  of  cider  every  year  to 
make  vinegar;  after  a  while  the  cider  would 
get  to  fermentin',  and  father — he  had  a 
purty  good-sized  bump  of  curiosity — he  was 
always  wantin'  to  know  just  how  it  was 
a-doin'  inside  the  barrel.  He'd  go  down 
cellar,  now  and  again,  and  loosen  the  bung, 
a-tryin'  to  judge  of  the  contents  by  the 
way  the  stuff  was  actin'.  Sometimes  he'd 
no  sooner  get  the  bung  loosened  than  it 
would  shoot  out  and — sizz,  fizz,  spatter ! 
the  cider  would  come  pourin'  out,  a-wet- 
tin'  him  all  up  and  wastin'  more  'n  half 
of  it,  like's  not,  before  he  could  get  con 
trol  of  it  again;  while  if  he'd  jest  let  it 
alone,  it  would  'a'  gone  on  in  its  own  way, 
as  nature  ordained,  and  'a'  made  good, 
wholesome  cider  vinegar.  Now,  Nora,  it 
does  'pear  to  me,  sometimes,  that  that  is  the 
way  it  is  with  your  father  and  Rupert. 
Rupert  he's  the  barrel,  and  James  can't  be 
easy;  he  can't  rest  and  let  the  barrel  sizz 
it  out  in  its  own  way,  but  he  must  be 
a-loosenin'  the  bung  and  makin'  a  heap 
of  trouble  for  himself  and  the  barrel.  Well, 
there,"  she  concluded,  rising  abruptly,  "  I 
might  jest  about  as  well  not  got  any  sup 
per  at  all;  none  of  us  has  et  a  mouthful." 
She  began  putting  away  the  untasted  food, 
while  Nora,  whose  heart  was  sore  for  her 
brother,  slipped  quietly  out  of  the  door  into 
the  night. 

Meantime  Mr.  Carrol  was  suffering  from 
another  sort  of  pain  than  that  caused  by 
his  injuries;  he  had  heard  Rupert's  reply 
to  his  grandmother's  entreaty,  and,  subse 
quently,  the  opening  and  closing  of  the  outer 
door;  he  even  heard  his  mother-in-law's 
parable  of  the  cider  barrel,  and  acknowl 
edged  its  applicability  to  himself  with  a 
grim  sense  of  justice. 

"  Reckon  maybe  Rupert  never  was  meant 
for  a  cowboy,  not  even  for  a  little  while, 
.as  I  want  him  to  be,"  he  told  himself,  in 


late  recognition  of  a  very  patent  fact.  "  It's 
kind  of  hard  to  make  anything  dance  to 
the  tune  you  want  'em  to  if  it  hasn't  an 
ear  for  the  music.  But  Rupert's  got  to 
dance  to  my  whistling  for  a  while  yet; 
when  the  time  comes  he'll  be  all  the  better 
fitted  to  do  his  own  whistling." 

He  was  so  restless  and  uneasy  that,  in 
spite  of  the  pain  it  cost  him,  he  man 
aged  to  struggle  up  to  a  sitting  posture  on 
the  side  of  the  bed.  Having  got  so  far,  he 
was  compelled  to  spend  some  minutes  in 
waiting  on  the  vagaries  of  the  bedroom 
furniture,  which  seemed  suddenly  endowed 
with  motion  of  a  singular  kind — a  waver 
ing,  billowy  motion  that  had  a  dreadful 
tendency  to  engulf  the  room  and  its  occu 
pant  in  black  oblivion.  He  had  got  con 
siderably  the  better  of  the  motion  before 
he  recognized  it  as  only  a  deadly  faintness 
in  himself.  Having  recognized  it,  he  kept 
on  doggedly.  He  had  dressed  himself,  after 
a  fashion,  and,  staggering  into  the  kitchen, 
had  collapsed,  rather  than  sunk,  into  a  chair, 
before  Mrs.  Easton,  who  was  washing 
dishes  with  a  clatter  indicative  of  the  dis 
turbed  state  of  her  mind,  awoke  to  a  knowl 
edge  of  what  he  was  doing.  Her  shrill  and 
indignant  remonstrance,  when  she  did 
awake,  was  cut  short  by  the  reopening  of 
the  door  as  Nora  again  entered.  She,  too, 
cried  out  in  astonishment  at  sight  of  her 
father,  who,  at  first  dumb  with  the  pain 
that  the  exertion  had  cost  him,  now  found 
voice  enough  to  protest. 

"  What's  the  use  of  making  such  a  fuss? 
I've  only  got  a  sprained  ankle,  anyway,  and 
a  few  jittle  scratches,  the  doctor  says.  I 
expect  to  be  around  all  right  in  a  day  or 
two." 

"  A  month  or  two,  more  like,  if  you're 
going  to  act  up  this  way,"  responded  his 
mother-in-law,  severely.  "  But  if  you  will 
run  the  risk  of  setting  up,  let  me  put  your 
foot  on  this  stool  and  put  a  piller  under  it." 
Both  of  which  she  did  with  the  gentlest 
possible  touch  in  spite  of  her  caustic  com 
ments.  Nora,  after  her  first  surprised  ex- 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


27 


clamation  at  sight  of  the  injured  man,  not 
only  out  of  bed,  but  dressed  and  in  the 
kitchen,  had  not  spoken,  but,  resuming  her 
former  attitude  at  the  table,  was  again  ap 
parently  studying  the  yellow  flame  of  the 
kerosene  lamp.  Mr.  Carrol,  .propped  up  in 
his  chair  with  every  nerve  on  the  alert,  was 
listening  with  an  intentness  to  which  every 
other  sound  proved  a  maddening  interrup 
tion  for  a  step  on  the  walk  outside — a  step 
that  did  not  come. 

A  long  silence  ensued,  broken  only  by  a 
soft  rustling  as  Mrs.  Easton  turned  the 
leaves  of  her  Bible  in  quest  of  some  sup 
porting  text.  Mr.  Carrol's  unconfessed 
suspense  becoming  at  length  insupportable, 
he  asked :  "  Did  you  hear  or  see  anything 
of  your  brother  when  you  were  out  just 
now,  Eleanor?" 

Nora  withdrew  her  eyes  from  the  con 
templation  of  the  yellow  flame  and  regarded 
him  gravely.  "  Yes,  father,  I  heard  him. 
He's  out  there  in  the  barn — in  the  dark — 
playing  on  his  violin.  I  didn't  speak  to 
him,"  she  went  on  absently,  her  ears  seem 
ingly  again  filled  with  a  strange,  sad  melody. 
"  He  was  playing  something  that  made  me 
feel  kind  of  bad." 

"  His  playing  'most  always  has  that  effect 
on  me,"  said  the  father,  dryly,  the  appre 
hension  that  had  been  torturing  him  sud 
denly  vanishing.  He  had  feared  that  the 
boy,  in  a  burst  of  rebellious  rage,  had  left 
home,  perhaps  for  good.  Presently  he  went 
on  in  a  gentler  voice:  "I  suppose  likely 
Rupert  can't  help  being  as  he  is.  Maybe 
I  hadn't  any  call  to  say  that  I'd  set  Cosme 
to  watch  him;  Cosme  ain't  any  such  great 
shakes  himself — Rupert  ought  to  know 
that." 

"  Perhaps  he  does  know  it,  father,"  Nora 
suggested,  doubtfully. 

"  You  mean  that  that  would  make  the 
idea  all  the  worse?  I  suppose  it  would. 
Well,  I  wish  I  had  sent  him  to  town  in 
stead  of  Cosme.  Cosme  could  have  man 
aged  the  cattle,  all  right,  and  it  would  be 
kind  of  interesting  to  see  what  sort  of  mis 


chief  Rupert  would  get  into  in  town." 

At  this  juncture  Mrs.  Easton  closed  her 
book  with  unusual  emphasis. 

"  I  can't  find  it,"  she  announced.  "  I'm 
pretty  sure  it's  there,  though.  But  it's  true 
I  might  'a'  got  hold  of  it  in  one  of  Mr. 
Wattses  hymns  instead  of  the  Bible." 

"  Got  hold  of  what,  mother?"  her  son-in- 
law  inquired  with  interest. 

"  Why  some  kind  of  a  statement  about  a 
king  that  had  a  really  scandulous  temper, 
and,  at  last,  the  folks  that  had  to  do  and 
to  suffer  along  of  his  tantrums,  they  hit 
on  the  scheme  of  havin'  a  boy  that  had  un 
common  faculty  in  playin'  on  some  kind 
of  a  musical  thing — a  jewsharp,  or  a  mouth- 
organ,  or,  maybe,  a  fiddle;  I  dunno  'bout 
that — they  hit  on  the  scheme  of  havin'  this 
boy  come  and  play  before  him  to  keep  him 
within  bounds  like.  The  scheme  was  a 
grand  success,  for  the  king  was  as  mild  and 
peaceable  as  a  lamb  while  the  boy  was 
playin';  that's  where  the  proverb,  'Music 
hath  power  to  soothe  the  savage  breast,'  got 
its  first  start,  I  s'pose." 

"  You're  sure  you  didn't  think  that  prov 
erb  up  yourself,  mother,  just  to  help  Rupert 
out?"  sarcastically  inquired  Mr.  Carrol. 

"  Well,  of  all  things !  If  you'd  'a'  read 
your  Bible  half  as  faithful  as  I  have,  you'd 
'a'  known — " 

What  it  was  that  he  would  have  known, 
Mr.  Carrol  was  destined  never  to  find  out, 
for,  just  then,  the  door  opened  and  Rupert 
came  in.  Mrs.  Easton  stole  a  glance  at 
his  face  and  abruptly  changed  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
NORA'S  CHARGE. 

UNDER  the  ministration  of  the  gentle 
spirit  that,  for  him,  dwelt  within  the 
compass  of  his  violin,  Rupert's  anger 
had  entirely  vanished. 

When,  after  an  hour  or  more,  spent  in 
playing,  he  reentered  the  house,  he  had 
quite  forgotten  that  he  had  left  it  in  anger 


28 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


such  a  short  time -before,  and  it  was  with 
a  good  deal  of  anxiety  that  he  discovered 
his  father  sitting  up  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Why,  father,  ought  you  to  be  out 
here?"  he  inquired,  doubtfully. 

"  As  to  that,  I  dare  say  it  would  be 
more  to  your  liking  if  I  kept  my  bed,  but 
I'll  try  to  have  a  little  supervision  of  affairs 
yet  awhile.  Did  you  get  the  chores  all 
done?" 

"  Yes;  what  Nora  didn't  do." 

"That's  right;  pile  your  work  on  to 
another  whenever  you  can." 

"  Father,"  interposed  Nora,  her  voice 
trembling,  "  I  didn't  do  enough  to  hurt 
myself,  and  Rupert  has  had  such  a  hard 
day — if  you  only  knew — " 

"  I  know  enough.  Rupert  Ml  make  hard 
times  for  himself  and  everybody  else,  wher 
ever  he  is.  Ain't  you  going  to  eat  any 
supper,  Rupert?" 

"  No;  I'm  not  hungry." 

"  You'll  manage  to  make  yourself  sick, 
I  see,  and  then  the  cattle  on  the  range  '11 
all  be  lost,  with  me  tied  up  this  way." 

"  Boys  are  cheap,"  observed  Mrs.  Easton, 
in  an  indignant  aside,  "  but  it  would  be 
dretful  to  lose  a  critter;  there's  a  money 
value  on  critters !" 

Mr.  Carrol  rose  stiffly  to  his  feet.  "  If 
you'll  light  a  lamp  in  my  room,  Eleanor, 
I'll  go  back  to  bed;  I  see  that  my  room  is 
full  as  welcome  as  my  company  in  this 
house." 

His  movements  were  so  slow  and  halting, 
however,  that  Rupert  sprang  impulsively 
to  his  side.  "  Let  me  help  you,  father." 

"No;  I  reckon  Nora's  right:  you're  all 
wore  out.  Sit  down  and  rest,  and  I'll  get 
along  alone."  But  he  did  not  refuse  Nora's 
proffered  aid  when  she  came  back  from  put 
ting  a  light  in  his  room;  he  even  gave  Mrs. 
Easton  a  parting  shot  on  her  account. 
"  Girls  ain't  cheap,  if  boys  are.  I've  found 
out  that  there's  one  girl  that  can  be  de 
pended  on,  no  matter  how  'tis  with  her 
brother." 

Rupert  had  gone  to  bed  when  Nora  re 


appeared  in  the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Easton  had 
taken  up  the  worn  old  Book  that  she  was 
wont  to  consult  in  time  of  trouble,  but  she 
pushed  it  aside  as  the  girl  came  in. 

"What  are  you  looking  for,  grandma?" 

"  Nothin'  partic'lar;  I  was  jest  studyin' 
about  your  pa  and  Rupert,  and  a  Bible 
verse  that  I  know  of  come  into  my  mind. 
You  see,  Nora,  I've  known  your  pa  ever 
since  he  was  a  mite  of  a  boy;  I  knew  his 
father  before  him,  too,  and  James'  father 
was  afflicted  with  the  same  kind  of  a  stormy 
temper  that  he's  got;  it  runs  in  the  family." 

Nora  sat  down  and  began  pulling  some 
long  strands  of  her  fine  brown  hair  through 
her  fingers.  "  We  can't  be  blamed,  then, 
for  getting  on  the  warpath,  as  Rupert  calls 
it,  if,  as  you  say,  it  is  our  nature  to,"  she 
said,  thoughtfully. 

"I  didn't  say  it  was  your  nature,  child; 
you're  different.  Most  folks,  Eleanor,  are 
a  good  deal  like  a  hen  that's  just  laid  an 
egg.  She  ain't  easy  in  her  mind  until  she's 
cackled  so's  the  whole  poultry  yard  knows 
what  a  fine  thing  she's  done.  And  so  'tis 
with  folks.  They  can't  rest,  nor  let  anyone 
else  rest,  until  they've  run  all  over  the 
neighborhood  with  the  tale  of  what  they've 
done,  or  thought  of  doin'. 

"  And,  in  the  end,  they're  quite  as  likely 
to  be  satisfied  with  declarin'  their  intentions 
of  doin'  some  big  thing  as  they  would  be 
with  doin'  it.  More  so,  mebbe,  for  I've 
took  notice,  this  many  a  year,  that  the  folks 
that  brag  about  their  work,  or  their  talents, 
or  their  industry,  most  gen'lly  take  it  all  out 
in  braggin'.  It  wasn't  so  with  the  Carrols; 
they  were  secretive.  They  were  forever 
denyin'  themselves  things  that  they  really 
needed  in  order  to  buy  something  that  should 
prove  a  gratifyin'  surprise  to  some  other 
member  of  the  family,  and — I  am  not  say- 
in'  that  it's  a  partic'larly  agreeable  way," 
she  added,  impartially,  "  but  it  was  their 
way.  And  sometimes  when  James  is  uncom 
mon  ha'sh  with  Rupert,  I  can't  help  think- 
in'  of  his  father  and  his  ways,  and  it  makes 
me  think  that  James  has  certainly  got 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


29 


somethin'  in  view  for  Rupert,  and,  knowin' 
in  his  own  heart  that  he  means  to  do  well 
by  Rupert — for  he  does  mean  that — any 
way,  it's  powerful  aggravatin'  to  him  to 
find  that  Rupert's  way  is  so  different  from 
his.  He's  like  that  hen  we've  read  of,  that 
hatched  out  a  duck  in  place  of  the  chick  she 
was  expectin'.  Nora,  I  always  felt  kind 
of  sorry  for  that  hen — more  'n  I  did  for 
the  duck,  if  anythin' — 'cause  the  duck  had 
all  its  life  before  it,  while  the  hen  she'd 
been  'lottin'  on  the  comfort  she  was  goin' 
to  take  with  that  chick.  And  what  com 
fort  did  she  get  out  of  the  duck?  Not  a 
whit.  Rupert  he's  a  duck,  where  James  has 
use  for  a  chicken,  and  jest  here  comes  in 
that  verse  I  was  thinkin'  of.  Someone  who 
'pears  to  have  been  kind  of  reproached  for 
not  keepin'  an  eye  on  them  that  was  prone 
to  get  into  trouble,  and  helpin'  them  to 
steer  clear  of  it,  asks:  'Am  I  my  brother's 
keeper?'  as  if  it  ought  not  to  be  expected 
of  him  to  look  out  for  others.  I  think  he 
was  wrong  there,  Eleanor,  and  I've  pretty 
nigh  made  up  my  mind  that  that  is  one  of 
the  pieces  of  work  the  Lord  has  laid  out 
for  you.  He's  kind  of  lookin'  to  you  to  be 
your  brother's  keeper." 

The  kitchen  clock  ticked  loudly,  while 
Nora  sat  silently  considering  this  proposi 
tion  and  all  that  it  implied.  The  cat,  whose 
devotion  to  her  was  inconveniently  strong, 
sprang  into  her  lap,  where  she  sat  working 
her  claws,  and  purring  loudly  in  expectation 
of  a  caress.  Nora  laid  her  brown  little 
hand  on  the  furry  head.  "  That's  a  good 
thought,  grandma,  and  I'm  going  to  try  to 
live  up  to  it." 

"  Well,  child,  I  ain't  real  sure  that  I 
should  ever  'a'  thought  of  the  matter  in  that 
light,  exactly,  if  you  hadn't  'a'  been  livin' 
up  to  it  pretty  faithful  all  along,"  Mrs. 
Easton  admitted,  candidly.  "  Come,"  she 
continued,  "  it's  high  time  we  was  abed." 

Rupert  had  said  in  confidence  to  his 
grandmother  that  he  could  not  rest  until 
those  steers,  now  in  the  Valdez  corral,  were 
safe  on  the  east  range.  In  consequence, 


Mrs.  Easton  was  astir  so  early  that  the  gray 
light  of  dawn  was  just  struggling  in  at  the 
kitchen  windows  when  she  and  Nora  and 
Rupert  sat  down  to  the  breakfast  table. 
Mr.  Carrol  was  still  sleeping,  and  the  three 
spoke  but  little  for  fear  of  disturbing  him; 
but,  as  Rupert  got  up  from  the  table,  Nora 
also  got  up.  "  You  know  I'm  going  with 
you,"  she  said. 

Rupert,  who  had  just  tiptoed  into  his  fa 
ther's  room  to  get  the  key  of  the  stable 
door  from  its  nail  at  the  foot  of  his  bed, 
paused,  swinging  the  key  on  one  finger,  and 
looked  at  her  thoughtfully.  "  I  don't  know 
as  you  ought  to,  Nora;  father  wouldn't  like 
it,  maybe." 

"  You  know  he  didn't  object — he  almost 
praised  me — when  he  found  that  I  had  taken 
out  the  colt,  to  help  you  last  night;  and  he 
didn't  object,  either,  when  I  told  him  that 
I  wanted  to  go  with  you  this  morning." 

"  That's  true.  I  wouldn't  let  you  go  if 
it  wasn't  for  that.  I  don't  want  to  get  into 
any  more  trouble.  And  I  don't  think  I  shall 
really  need  you,  young  lady,  except  for  your 
company.  You're  better  for  company  than 
you  are  for  a  cowboy." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that;  wait  till  I've 
had  as  much  practice  in  the  business  as  you 
have." 

"  Well,  that  you'll  never  have,  not  if  I'm 
alive  and  can  stop  you.  Come  on.  You 
shall  ride  Vidette,  who's  got  sense,  and  I'll 
ride  the  colt,  who  hasn't,  so  we'll  be  well 
matched  all  around." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  COUGAR  IN  THE  CORRAL. 

IT  WAS  not  a  long  ride  from  the  ranch 
house  to  the  deserted  corral  where  the 
cattle  had  been  secured,  but  it  was  long 
enough  to  have  taken  what  Rupert  called 
"  the  edge  "  off  both  Vidette  and  the  colt 
before  they  came  close  enough  to  it  to  ob 
serve  that  there  was  something  unusual  go 
ing  on  among  the  cattle. 


30 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


At  that  early  hour,  and  after  the  hard 
drive  of  the  day  before,  the  steers  would 
naturally,  if  undisturbed,  be  quiet  and  still 
resting. 

That  such  was  not  the  case  was  amply 
testified  by  the  clouds  of  dust  that  rolled 
up  from  the  enclosure — much  as  if,  save 
that  its  color  was  gray  instead  of  blue,  it 
had  been  the  smoke  of  a  raging  fire. 

"  Well,"  Rupert  exclaimed,  in  surprise, 
"  what  on  earth  can  be  the  matter  now  !" 

He  decked  his  horse,  and  Nora  followed 
his  example. 

"  Listen  !"  he  said. 

Out  from  the  eddying  whirl  of  dust  there 
came  to  their  ears  clearly,  now  that  the 
clatter  of  the  horses'  hoofs  no  longer 
interfered  with  their  hearing,  the  sound  of 
furious,  angry  bellowing.  Rupert,  greatly 
concerned,  touched  the  bay  colt  with  his 
spurred  heel. 

"  Sounds  as  if  they  were  having  the  time 
of  their  lives,  all  by  themselves,"  he  re 
marked  to  Nora,  who  was  keeping  close  be 
side  him,  for  Vidette,  without  waiting  for 
instructions,  was  running  neck  and  neck 
with  the  colt. 

"  It  does  sound  that  way,"  Nora  assented. 
Secretly,  she  was  a  good  deal  alarmed.  To 
drive  a  herd  of  peaceable  cattle  anywhere, 
that  was  all  right — an  undertaking  that  no 
one  need  be  afraid  of;  but  a  mass  of  en 
raged  and  fighting  beasts — that  was  a  dif 
ferent  matter.  Still,  she  had  not  the  slight 
est  intention  of  holding  back  or  seeking 
safely  in  flight. 

But  Rupert  instantly  recognized  a  danger 
that  had  not  occurred  to  her. 

"  Now,  Nora,  if  those  fool  cattle  are 
fighting  among  themselves,  you  turn  square 
about  and  put  for  home." 

"  No,  Rupert.    I— 

"  Now  you'll  do  exactly  as  I  say.  I  don't 
know  that  they  are  fighting,  but  it  sounds 
very  much  like  it.  I  never  knew,  or  heard, 
of  an  entire  bunch  getting  on  the  warpath 
with  each  other,  as  these  seem,  judging  by 
the  noise  they  are  making,  to  have  done. 


If  they  have,  I'll  just  ride  up  quietly,  open 
the  corral  gate,  and  run  for  it  before  they 
find  out  what's  happened.  They'll  come 
pouring  out,  and,  likely,  cool  down  when 
they  find  the  gate  is  open ;  they're  terribly 
hungry,  and  we  ought  to  be  able  to  handle 
them — that  is,  unless  you  are  obliged  to 
run  for  home." 

"  But,  Rupert — " 

"  There  are  no  '  buts '  about  it,  Nora. 
You  don't  understand.  The  danger  isn't  in 
what  you'll  do,  but  in  what  your  horse  will 
do.  Vidette  is  so  well  trained,  she  knows 
her  business  so  well,  that  if  she  sees  a 
chance  to  make  herself  useful,  she's  going 
to  do  it,  regardless.  Now  stop."  He 
brought  the  colt  to  a  halt,  and  Vidette 
promptly  followed  the  colt's  example. 

"You  see  that  low  butte,  right  there?" 
He  pointed  to  the  square-topped  hill  on  his 
left. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  if  the  cattle  start  down  this  way, 
when  I  let  them  out,  you  ride  to  the  top 
of  that  butte.  Until  then  just  stay  where 
you  are.  If  it's  safe  for  you  to  come  on, 
I'll  whistle  for  you." 

Accordingly,  Nora  held  in  the  chafing 
Vidette  while  Rupert  hurried  on  to  the 
corral.  Arrived  at  the  gate,  she  saw  him 
stop  his  horse  and  look  into  the  enclosure. 
It  seemed  to  her  a  long  time,  though  in 
reality  it  was  less  than  five  minutes  before 
his  high,  clear  whistle  sounded,  summoning 
her.  When  she  had  reached  his  side, 
Rupert  pointed  silently  toward  the  center 
of  the  enclosure.  The  bay  colt,  with  head 
erect  and  eyes  distended  with  terror,  was 
trembling  violently,  but,  true  to  the  good 
blood  that  was  in  him,  stanchly  held  his 
ground. 

"  What  is  it?  What  is  it?"  she  cried,  as 
Vidette,  unconcerned,  stopped  beside  her 
brother's  trembling  mount.  Rupert  shook 
his  head.  Fifty  steers,  inside  the  corral, 
in  the  full  swing  of  a  Wagnerian  chorus, 
made  such  an  uproar  that  to  hear  any  lesser 
sound  was  entirely  out  of  the  question;  but 


This  part  of  the  circus  is  past  hurting 


31 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


33 


he  pointed  to  the  center  of  the  corral,  and 
Nora  made  out,  rather  from  the  motion  of 
his  lips  than  from  any  sounds  that  she 
heard,  that  he  was  telling  her  to  wait  until 
the  dust  settled  a  little,  or  until  the  crowd 
ing  animals  fell  back. 

Yidette,  afraid  of  nothing,  crowded 
closer,  and  put  her  nose  inquiringly  over 
the  top  bar.  Then  she  stamped  and  shook 
her  head  angrily. 

Rupert,  from  his  higher  seat  on  the  back 
of  the  tall  bay,  leaned  down  to  pat  his  pet 
approvingly. 

"  Good  little  girl !,  You'd  like  to  get  a 
chance  at  that  cougar  yourself,  wouldn't 
you?"  he  said. 

Then,  motioning  Nora  to  follow,  he 
turned  and  rode  away  from  the  corral  until 
they  were  at  a  sufficient  distance  to  enable 
them  to  hear  each  other  speak. 

"  There's  a  cougar  in  there,  and  they're 
all  taking  a  hand,  or  a  hoof,  in  trampling 
it  to  death,"  Rupert  informed  his  sister. 

"  A  cougar !" 

"  Exactly;  a  cougar,  and  I'm  rather  sorry 
for  him.  The  Valdez  corral  has  not  been 
used  for  a  long  time,  and  it  looks  to  me  as 
if  this  particular  unfortunate  may  have 
taken  up  his  residence  in  it.  There  are  two 
or  three  stalls,  dark  and  spooky,  at  the 
south  end,  just  the  places  for  a  skulking 
wild  animal  to  pitch  on  for  a  lair.  This 
fellow  was  probably  in  there  last  night 
when  we  turned  the  cattle  in,  and  just  lay 
quiet  until  along  about  daylight  before  try 
ing  to  get  away.  Or  he  may  have  made  a 
kill.  I'm  almost  afraid  he  has,  and  that 
that  is  why  the  cattle  are  so  excited.  It 
doesn't  seem  as  if  they  would  get  so  per 
fectly  maniacal  just  because  a  cougar  hap 
pens  to  come  among  them;  besides,  if 
there  was  nothing  else,  it's  necessary  for 
me  to  get  into  fresh  trouble,  and  getting 
one  of  Wilson's  steers  killed  would  be  a 
good  start  toward  it. 

"  Well,  the  cougar  showed  up  among 
them,  but  he'll  never  show  up  anywhere 
else.  I'm  going  back,  now,  to  open  the 


gate.  You  ride  close  up  to  the  fence  on 
the  north  side  and  stay  there.  The  cattle 
are  crazy  enough,  but  if  you  keep  back 
they'll  not  notice  you.  They  must  have  a 
chance  to  spread  out  and  get  clear  of  the 
corral  before  we  can  do  anything  with 
them. 

"  Stay  close,  and  I'll  join  you  in  a  min 
ute;  then  I'll  see  that  Vidette  doesn't  put 
a  finger  in  this  pie,  as  she  looks  as  if  she 
would  like  to." 

Nora  obeyed  instructions,  and  Rupert, 
riding  again  to  the  corral  gate,  swung  low 
down  from  his  saddle,  removed  the  peg 
that  held  down  the  heavy  bolt,  lifted  the 
bolt,  and  swung  the  gate  wide  open.  Then 
he  turned  again  and  rode  up  beside  the 
fence  where  Nora  waited. 

The  cattle  began  at  once  to  pour  out. 
They  were,  as  Rupert  had  said,  desperately 
hungry  as  well  as  thirsty,  for  they  had  had 
no  chance  to  graze  during  the  previous 
afternoon,  and  they  had  spent  the  night  in 
the  corral  in  lively  controversy  with  a 
cougar. 

Mounted,  as  they  were,  brother  and  sis 
ter  could  look  over  the  corral  wall,  and  it 
was  with  much  satisfaction  that  they  noted 
that  the  open  gate  held  a  greater  attraction 
for  the  infuriated  cattle  than  did  the  torn 
and  trampled  semblance  of  what  had  once 
been  a  magnificent  cougar. 

When  the  last  steer  had  trotted  clumsily 
out  of  the  enclosure,  Rupert  rode  in.  Nora, 
from  her  station  beside  the  fence,  watched 
with  breathless  anxiety,  fearful  yet  that  the 
trapped  creature  might  have  some  life  in  it. 

"  Come  in,"  Rupert  called,  at  last. 
"  Come  right  in.  This  part  of  the  circus  is 
past  hurting  or  helping  anything  more  in 
this  world.  See,"  he  continued,  as  Nora 
joined  him,  "  they've  made  a  pancake,  and 
a  big  one,  too,  of  this  fellow.  I  wonder, 
now,  if  he  did  make  his  lair  in  here."  To 
settle  this  point  Rupert  rode  slowly  around 
the  corral,  peering  sharply  into  the  dark 
recesses  of  the  empty  stalls. 

"  There  might  be  cubs — or  a  mate  !     Do 


34 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


be  careful,  Rupert !"  Nora  entreated. 

"  Well,  if  he,  or  she,  had  a  mate,  the 
mate  is,  luckily  for  itself,  off  on  a  vacation. 
There  are  no  cubs,  and  nothing  else  but 
'  bones  and  blood,'  same's  that  '  cross  old 
bear  '  left  in  his  cave  in  the  good  old  days 
of  Horatius.  There's  plenty  of  bones  in 
this  stall,  the  one  farthest  west.  Come 
on  up  and  look  in  for  yourself.  It's 
pretty  plain  that  Mr.  Cougar  had  taken  up 
his  abode  here,  and  that  we  intruded  on 
his  solitude." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  that  none  of  the  cattle 
were  killed !"  Nora  exclaimed. 

"Yes;  a  steer  or  two  killed  would  have 
made  a  complication,  sure  enough.  It  must 
be  that  my  luck  is  changing.  I  don't  know 
when  such  a  golden  opportunity  for  my 
getting  into  trouble  has  been  passed  up  be 
fore.  As  it  is,  it's  fortunate  for  me  that 
the  cattle  are  to  go  to  a  range  that's  sev 
eral  miles  from  the  ranch  house.  Judging 
from  the  looks  of  a  good  many  of  those  cat 
tle,  that  cougar  certainly  did  put  up  a  gal 
lant  fight." 

"Why,  how  is  that?"  Nora  asked,  in 
quick  alarm,  lest,  after  all,  Rupert  might 
be  confronted  with  another  difficulty. 

"  Well,  you  can  see  for  yourself,  when 
we  round  them  up.  The  sides  and  flanks 
of  a  score  of  them  are  torn  and  gashed  by 
the  cougar's  claws  and  teeth,  but  there  are 
no  bones  broken,  and  they  are  all  able  to 
eat.  They'll  be  all  right  again  long  before 
father  or  Mr.  Wilson  gets  around  to  inspect 
them.  Wilson  has  gone  to  El  Paso;  that's 
why  I've  had  to  do  this  work — and  what  a 
mess  it's  been,  too !  Come  on,  now,  let's 
hustle  them  along.  There's  a  water  hole 
on  their  new  range,  and  they  must  be 
thirsty  enough  to  be  willing  to  go  to  it  by 
this  time." 

This  surmise  was  so  correct  that  the 
difficulty  proved,  after  the  steers  were  once 
headed  in  the  right  direction,  not  to  be 
to  keep  them  going,  but  to  keep  up  with 
them.  Long  before  noon  they  were  safely 
established  on,  as  Rupert  described  it,  "  the 


place  they  long  had  sought,"  and  brother 
and  sister  turned  their  horses'  heads  home 
ward,  very  thankful  that  this  piece  of  trou 
blesome  and  adventurous  work  was  safely 
over  with. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
RUPERT  RESOLVES  ON  DISOBEDIENCE. 

«T  WONDER,"  said  Nora,  suddenly 
breaking  a  long  silence,  "  where 
Daisy  is?  Father  was  speaking  of 
her  last  night.  He  said  that  he  had  in 
tended  to  have  her  brought  up." 

"  She's  all  right,"  Rupert  returned, 
rather  absently.  "  I  saw  her  with  the  rest 
of  the  home  herd  two  or  three  days  ago.  I 
got  off  my  horse,  and  she  came  up  and  be 
gan  nosing  around  my  pockets  in  search 
of  some  dainty.  You've  spoiled  her  for  the 
rough  life  of  the  range,  Nora,  but  she  does 
look  pretty." 

"I'd  like  to  see  her;  it's  been  a  long 
time  since  I've  seen  her." 

"  Any  time  that  you  like  to  ride  over 
toward  the  Muldoon  Hills  you'll  probably 
see  the  apple  of  your  eye  grazing  with 
others  of  her  kind,"  returned  Rupert. 

"  Not  with  others  of  her  kind,"  retorted 
Nora,  with  a  laugh.  "  There  are  no  oth 
ers  of  her  kind  in  New  Mexico,  I  believe. 
I'm  so  glad  that  those  cattlemen  gave  her 
to  me,  when  they  came  along  through  here 
with  that  herd  and  she  was  so  worn  out  that 
she  couldn't  go  any  farther.  You  wouldn't 
think,  to  look  at  her  now,  that  she  was  such 
a  weak  little  scrap  of  skin  and  bones  less 
than  two  years  ago." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'm  glad  you've  got  her," 
Rupert  said,  still  absently. 

"  You  remember,  don't  you,  that  Cosine's 
father  was  quite  put  out  because  the  men, 
who  had  stopped  with  him  over  night, 
didn't  give  her  to  him  instead  of  to  me?" 
pursued  Nora. 

"Was  he?  The  old  rascal!  I'd  forgot 
ten  it,  if  I  ever  did  know.  Say,  Nora,  I 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


35 


do  wish  that  it  was  of  any  use  to  ask  father 
to  let  me  go  over  to  the  7-H  to-night.  I 
know  it's  of  no  use  to  expect  it,  especially 
now,  when  he's  so  mad  at  me.  They're 
going  to  have  a  dance.  I  don't  care  a 
straw  for  that,  but  Valasco  De  Vargas  is 
to  be  there,  and  I'd  give — I  don't  know 
what  I  wouldn't  give,  if  I  had  it — for  the 
sake  of  hearing  him  play." 

Nora,  who  sympathized  with  Rupert's 
musical  tastes  and  secretly  believed  him  to 
be  a  genius,  knew  all  about  De  Vargas. 
"  Oh,  I  wish  you  could  go !"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  do  wish  you  could !  How  is  it  that 
De  Vargas  happens  to  be  out  there?" 

Rupert  explained,  and  added,  glancing  at 
the  face  that  had  kindled  at  the  mention  of 
the  violinist's  name,  "  I  wish  that  \ve  could 
both  go,  Nora.  You'd  enjoy  it  as  much  as 
I,  I  expect." 

Nora  shook  her  head.  "  No,  we  couldn't 
both  leave,  anyway,  and  we  ought  not  to, 
with  father  hurt  as  he  is.  I'll  do  anything 
that  he  wants  of  you,  though,  and  be  glad 
to,  if  he'll  let  you  go." 

"  Well,  I  won't  ask  him,"  declared 
Rupert,  stubbornly.  "  It  won't  do  any  good, 
if  I  do." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  won't  do  any  good  if  I 
do,  either,"  said  Nora,  "  but  I  mean  to  do 
it.  Why,  you  have  never  heard  a  really 
good  player  in  your  life,  and  you  ought  to 
have  a  chance  to  judge  whether  he  plays 
any  better  than  you  do." 

Rupert  laughed.  "  What  a  little  brick 
you  are,  Nora !  No  going  back  on  your 
own  in  you,  is  there?  If  I  played  in  public 
I  daresay  you  think  I'd  soon  be  as  famous 
as  De  Vargas  himself?" 

"Why  not?  I  should  think  so;  indeed, 
you'd  be  more  so,  because  you  are  an 
American,  and  De  Vargas  is  only  a 
Mexican,  anyway." 

"  Mexican,  white  or  Indian,  it's  all  one. 
Father  won't  let  me  go  to  hear  him;  he 
hates  the  whole  business." 

Rupert's  prophecy  proved  so  far  correct 
that  it  seemed  robbed  of  the  dignity,  even, 


of  prophecy,  but  appeared  simply  a  recital 
of  some  foreknowledge.  Mr.  Carrol,  on 
being  consulted,  not  only  sensibly  refused  to 
allow  him  to  participate  in  a  frolic  that 
would  keep  him  up  all  night,  as  well  as 
necessitate  a  twenty-mile  ride,  but  he  was 
evidently  surprised  that  Nora,  whom  he  ac 
counted  ordinarily  reasonable,  should  ask  it. 

"  There  are  cattle  thieves  around,"  he 
said,  in  conclusion,  "  and  the  range  must 
be  watched  mighty  close.  What  will 
Rupert  be  fit  for,  after  he's  been  out  kick 
ing  up  his  heels  all  night?  If  there  was 
nothing  else,  I  don't  approve  of  them  rough 
dances — 

"  It  isn't  the  dance,"  Nora  assured  him, 
eagerly.  "  It's  the  violinist,  De  Vargas — 

"  Worse  and  worse  !  The  idea  of  riding 
twenty  miles  on  top  of  a  hard  day's  work — 
for  Rupert  will  have  to  get  in  those  cattle 
from  the  Vermijo  this  afternoon — just  to 
hear  a  greasy  Mexican  fiddler !  I'm  aston 
ished  at  you,  Nora;  I  should  think  you'd 
have  more  respect  for  your  brother  than 
to  ask  it !  I  tell  you,  Rupert  wants  to  keep 
straight,  and  to  keep  out  of  low  company. 
I've  got  something  better  than  getting 
mixed  up  in  any  cowboy  fracas  in  store 
for  him,  now  I  give  notice  !" 

Nora,  recalling  what  her  grandmother 
had  said  only  the  evening  Lefore  as  to  the 
dominant  traits  of  the  Carrols,  said  noth 
ing  in  reply  to  this  ambiguous  speech.  Per 
haps  her  grandmother  was  right,  though 
she  had  not  thought  so  before,  and  his 
father  really  had  some  project  on  foot  for 
Rupert's  lasting  benefit.  The  vague,  half- 
confirmation  that  her  father's  words  gave 
to  this  idea  afforded  her  so  much  satisfac 
tion  that  it  was  with  quite  a  radiant  face 
that  she  left  the  room  and  went  out  to  find 
Rupert. 

Rupert  was  at  the  woodpile  hacking  away 
at  a  twisted  cedar  log.  Wood-cutting  was 
a  part  of  Cosme's  work,  but  the  Mexican 
usually  contented  himself  with  the  assur 
ance  that  there  was  enough  on  hand,  ready 
cut,  to  cook  another  meal.  It  did  not  seem 


36 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


to  him  necessary  to  make  provision  for  a 
future  more  remote  than  that. 

Rupert  looked  up  as  Nora  approached, 
and  the  brightness  in  her  face  was  reflected 
for  an  instant  in  his  own.  "  Did  he  say  I 
might  go?"  he  asked  eagerly,  adding:  "  You 
look  as  though  he  did." 

"  No,  he  didn't ;  he  isn't  willing  for  you 
to  go,  Rupert." 

"  What  made  you  look  so  glad,  then  ?" 
demanded  the  boy,  dropping  the  axe  and 
staring  at  his  sister,  all  the  brightness  gone 
from  his  face. 

"Did  I  look  glad?''  stammered  Nora, 
guiltily.  "  It — it  was  something  else." 

With  a  pang  beside  which  that  caused  by 
his  father's  refusal  to  allow  him  to  attend 
the  dance  was  as  nothing,  Rupert  found 
himself  suddenly  confronted  with  the  idea 
that  his  sister,  the  one  in  whom  he  trusted 
above  all  others,  might  have  interests  apart 
from  his — might,  nay,  did,  have  secrets 
from  him.  Why  didn't  she  tell  him  what 
had  made  her  so  happy  all  at  once?  Bend 
ing  to  his  task  again  with  averted  face,  he 
plied  the  axe,  while  Nora,  feeling  miser 
ably  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  looking 
pleased  when  her  brother  was  sorry,  looked 
on  in  silence.  Finally  she  said :  "  Father 
wants  you  to  drive  in  the  cows  from  the 
round-up  camp  on  the  Vermijo  this  after 
noon.  You  know  they  were  left  to  shift  for 
themselves  when  father  was  brought  home." 

"All  right;  I'll  go  as  soon  as  I've  cut 
a  little  more  wood,"  answered  Rupert, 
coldly. 

"  Leave  the  wood  for  Cosme,"  Nora  ad 
vised.  "  He'll  be  back  some  time  this 
afternoon,  and  you've  got  enough  cut  for 
now." 

"  Don't  worry  about  me,"  was  the  un 
gracious  retort.  "  There's  no  danger  of  my 
hurting  myself;  ask  father  if  there  is." 

Feeling  that  in  his  present  mood  her 
presence  served  only  to  irritate  him,  Nora 
walked  slowly  away  toward  the  house. 

Rupert  cast  an  angry  glance  after  her. 
"  You  may  look  as  happy  as  you  please, 


Miss  Nora,  because  father  denies  me  every 
pleasure,  and  everything  else  that  he  pos 
sibly  can,"  he  muttered,  "  but  I'm  going  to 
hear  De  Vargas  to-night,  whatever  father 
says.  He  has  no  right  to  deprive  me  of 
every  advantage.  It  isn't  just  the  pleasure 
alone — and  he  knows  it — it's  the  educa 
tional  part,  and  I'm  gong — I'm  going." 

All  his  latent  kindliness  toward  his  fa 
ther,  his  reasonable  toleration  for  what,  in 
his  saner  moods,  he  recognized  as  merely 
outbursts  of  the  high  and  uncontrollable 
temper  that  formed,  as  his  grandmother 
had  so  often  painstakingly  pointed  out,  an 
unfortunate  heritage  for  his  father,  sud 
denly  hardened  into  a  kind  of  sullen  deter 
mination  to  have  his  own  way,  to  do  the 
thing  that  he  most  desired  to  do,  at  what 
ever  cost. 


CHAPTER  X. 
A  LESSON  IN  ARITHMETIC. 

COSME,  the  Mexican  helper,  reached 
the  ranch  house  with  his  load  of  sup 
plies  on  the  evening  of  the  same  day 
that  Rupert  and  Nora  had  had  the  interest 
ing  experience  of  witnessing  a  fight  be 
tween  a  herd  of  cattle  and  a  cougar. 
Rupert  was  not  yet  back  from  his  trip  to 
the  Cimarron,  and  this  fact,  for  reasons 
best  known  to  himself,  seemed  to  afford 
the  young  Mexican  a  good  deal  of  satis 
faction.  Not  that  the  Mexican  feared,  in 
the  least,  that  Rupert  had  failed  to  keep  his 
promise  in  that  matter  of  the  attempted 
trip  to  Sulphur  Butte,  but  there  were  other 
later  treacheries  that  he  had  an  uneasy 
suspicion  that  Rupert  might  divine,  though 
having  the  fullest  confidence  in  his  own 
ability  when  it  came  to  hoodwinking  Ru 
pert's  father.  Rupert's  father  believed  in 
him,  while  Rupert,  Cosme  felt  with  a  bitter 
sense  of  injury,  did  not  and  never  had.  He 
recognized  that  it  was  going  to  be  a  hard 
matter  to  keep  Rupert  in  a  state  of  igno 
rance  concerning  his,  Cosme's,  misdeeds, 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


37 


and  it  was,  therefore,  most  desirable  that 
he  should  have  an  opportunity  to  recite  the 
events  of  his  trip  to  Pinos  Altos  without 
being  subjected  to  any  cross-examination 
from  the  too  keen-witted  young  American. 

On  entering  the.  house  and  learning  of 
the  accident  that  had  befallen  its  head, 
Cosme  ventured  to  express  his  respectful 
sympathy  and  commiseration.  His  polite 
regrets  were  cut  short  midway  of  their  ut 
terance  by  the  invalid's  ordering  him  to 
bring  into  the  kitchen  the  various  articles 
he  had  been  commissioned  to  purchase. 

The  order  was  obeyed  with  cheerful 
alacrity,  and  Cosme  stood  by,  looking  on 
with  a  face  of  innocent  interest,  while  Mr. 
Carrol  slowly  checked  off  the  list. 

The  inspection  proved  entirely  satis 
factory,  and  then  Mr.  Carrol  said :  "  Seems 
to  me  there  ought  to  have  been  some 
change  back  from  that  twenty  dollars  that 
I  gave  you." 

"  Well,  of  all  things !"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Kaston.  "  Did  you  trust  Cosme  with 
twenty  dollars?  Why,  he  can't  count  ten 
cents  straight !  Besides,  I  thought  you  al 
ways  had  things  that  you  sent  for  by  Cosme 
charged,  and  paid  for  them  when  you  or 
Rupert  went  into  town." 

"  Well,  that's  right ;  I  do  generally,  but 
this  time  I  let  Cosme  take  the  money.  You 
say  there  was  nothing  left,  Cosme?" 

"  That  w'at  I  buy  cos'  viente  dollah ;  not 
some  less.  It  was  on  'count  'at  new  t'ing 
'at  gov'ment  put  up — 'at  stariff — 'at  it  cos' 
not  some  less  as  viente  dollah." 

"  I  been  thinking  all  along  that  the  tariff 
would  prove  a  bad  thing  for  us  poor  farm 
ers,"  replied  Mr.  Carrol.  "  Well,  take  care 
of  your  horses,  Cosme;  I  daresay  they're 
tired  enough." 

The  black  eye  of  the  Mexican  glinted 
inquiringly  around  the  premises  as  he  left 
the  house.  He  had  seen  nothing  of  Nora 
since  he  came  in,  but,  just  as  he  was  com 
ing  out  of  the  stable  door  after  having  cared 
for  the  horses,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her 
pink  dress  flitting  along  the  path  to  the 


spring  down  under  the  cliff  near  the  root 
cellar,  and,  dropping  his  pitchfork,  he  hast 
ened  after  her. 

Nora  looked  back,  startled,  as  the  sound 
of  hurried  footsteps  following  her  caught 
her  ear.  "Oh,  is  that  you,  Cosme?  I 
didn't  know  you  had  got  back  yet." 

"  Yes,  me  I  was  got  back  a  long  time. 
How  come  you  no  see  'at?" 

"  Oh,  I  started  to  go  to  the  spring  for 
some  water  an  hour  ago,  but  I  stopped  to 
look  at  a  little  pocket  of  black  sand  beside 
the  trail,  and — "  Nora  checked  herself  sud 
denly.  But  she  had  already  said  enough 
to  fully  enlighten  the  young  Mexican. 

"  'At  pocket  black  san'  no  good  such 
place  as  'at;  too  small  pay  for  work;  give 
all  out  in  no  time  'tall." 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  All  'em  pocket  full  of  gol'-like  'nuff," 
Cosme  continued,  mournfully.  "  But  me, 
I  no  care  for  gol' ;  w'at  gol'  w'en  a  mans 
has  no  educate'.  If  I  was  educate',  me,  I 
would  dig  up  gol'  and  jewel,  like  w'at 
Senora  Easton  tell  of,  an'  I  would  be  a 
mighty  man  in  'e  Ian'." 

Nora  had  always  felt  a  kind  of  instinctive 
distrust  for  her  father's  brown-faced  young 
employe,  but  this  tone  of  gentle  melan 
choly  in  speaking  of  something  that,  for 
him,  was  practically  unattainable,  disarmed 
her  vague  suspicion  and  won  her  sym 
pathy.  "  I  wish  that  all  of  us  had  a  better 
chance  to  learn  something,  Cosme,"  she 
said,  putting  down  the  water  pail  and  lean 
ing  thoughtfully  against  a  jutting  rock  be 
side  the  narrow  trail. 

Cosme  picked  up  the  pail.  "  I  gets  the 
water  for  you,  senorita.  I  do  more  as  'at 
for  anyone  w'at  was  sorrowful  for  my  no 
educate'.  Senora  Easton,  she  say  I  was  not 
could  count  ten  cent.  I  can  do  'at;  she 
was  mistake,  but " — Cosme  spoke  slowly 
and  with  curious  precision ;  if  Nora  had 
been  less  intent  upon  the  bits  of  gravel 
that  she  was  pushing  about  with  the  toe 
of  her  shoe,  she  would  have  seen  that  he 
was  watching  her  with  keen  anxiety — "  I 


38 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


no  can  do  w'at  you  call  sums  in  'at  'rithum- 
tic  w'at  tells  about  figgers." 

"Would  you  like  to  study  arithmetic?" 
Nora  asked,  looking  at  him  in  surprise. 

Cosme  shifted  his  gaze  to  the  bits  of 
gravel.  "  I  have  not  good  'miff  know  how 
to  read  'at  Englis',"  he  replied,  evasively. 
"  But  sometime  I  was  get  to  study  to  my 
self,  an'  I  make  up  w'at  you  call  sums,  like 
it  was  this  one:  suppose,  now,  'at  one  boy, 
or  one  man,  he  have  viente  dollah — " 

"  Twenty  dollars,  that  is.    Yes?" 

"  Si ;  an'  suppose  he  have  spen'  all  'at 
viente  dollah,  an'  suppose  he  work  for  a 
man  w'at  pay  him  ten  dollah  a  mont'.i  How 
long  it  goin'  take  'at  man,  or  'at  boy,  to 
get  hole  of  viente  dollah  again?" 

"How  long?  Why,  two  months,  of 
course." 

"Two  mont's?  Si,  it  was  take  two 
mont's."  Cosme  again  took  up  the  pail  that 
he  had  dropped  in  the  intensity  of  his  in 
terest  in  the  solution  of  his  "  sum."  "  I  go 
get  'at  water  for  you  now,  Sefiorita,"  he 
said,  moving  away. 

"  W'ait,  Cosme.  You  know  I  have  al 
ways  felt  sorry  that  there  were  no  schools 
here  for  your  people,  and  I  think,  if  you 
want  to  learn,  that  you  ought  to  have  a 
chance.  If  you  would  like  to  study  arith 
metic — 

Cosme  shook  his  head.  "  Mi  padre  he 
say  I  no  got  very  big  min'.  I  goin'  study 
over  'at  sum  w'at  I  tell  you,  but  I  no  try 
to  put  too  much  in  my  min'  at  once  for  fear 
'at  h?  goin'  bust." 

"  It  would  be  an  awful  pity  to  have  such 
a  thing  as  that  happen  to  your  mind,"  re 
turned  Nora,  laughing,  as  she  turned  back 
toward  the  house,  while  Cosme  went  on  to 
the  spring. 

It  was  so  hard  for  Mr.  Carrol  to  keep 
quiet  that  he  was  now  hobbling  around  on 
improvised  crutches ;  supported  by  them,  he 
was  standing  in  the  doorway  as  Cosme  came 
up  with  the  water.  He  stood  aside  to  let 
the  Mexican  pass,  remarking:  "Your  fa 


ther's  away  on  the  round-up  now,  isn't  he, 
Cosme?" 

"Si;  he  was  gone  on  'at  roun'-up  for 
be  gone  six  or  ten  weeks  'is  time,"  re 
sponded  Cosme,  cheerfully. 

"That's  too  bad;  I  was  in  hopes  I  could 
get  him  to  work  for  me  for  a  few  days." 

"  It  was  too  late  for  think  of  'at,"  re 
plied  Cosme,  with  conviction.  "  He  was 
goin'  be  gone  two  mont's,  I  bet  you."  The 
young  Mexican  had  so  powerful  a  reason 
for  wishing  that  his  austere  parent  might 
be  kept  busy  at  a  distance  for  some  time 
to  come,  that  his  wishes  unconsciously  col 
ored  his  statement. 

Valdez,  senior,  having  been  unexpectedly 
delayed,  had  not  yet  departed  on  the  long 
and  lonely  riding  tour  that  Cosme  knew  he 
was  about  to  undertake.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  Valdez,  stationed  at  the  present  on 
the  Cimarron,  and  not  too  far  away,  find 
ing  an  off  day  on  his  hands,  had  decided 
to  make  use  of  it  in  going  to  town  for 
supplies,  and  when  he  came  to  that  de 
cision,  a  well-merited  retribution  was  al 
ready  on  his  son's  track. 

Rupert  came  in  late  to  supper  at  the  end 
of  his  long  day's  work.  He  found  his  fa 
ther  lying  on  the  lounge  in  the  kitchen,  and, 
as  he  sat  alone  at  the  table,  his  father's  gaze 
dwelt  on  him  with  so  much  interest  that 
Rupert  suddenly  resolved  to  ask,  on  his 
own  account,  the  favor  that  had  been  re 
fused  at  Nora's  intercession.  He  pushed 
away  his  plate  and  looked  wistfully  at  the 
recumbent  figure  in  the  corner. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  I  would  like  to  go 
over  to  the  7-H  to-night,  to  hear  Valesco 
De  Vargas  play." 

"  Yes,  your  sister  told  me  this  morning 
that  you  wanted  to,  and,  I  own,  I  was  sur 
prised.  There  are  cattle  thieves  around,  and 
here  I  am,  tied  by  the  ankle  to  a  lounge  or  an 
easy-chair.  All  the  heavy  work  of  the  range 
is  on  your  shoulders — for  I  can't  afford  to 
hire  help,  even  if  there  was  any  to  hire, 
which  there  isn't — and  you  want  to  go  scour 
ing  across  country  to  a  cowboy  dance !" 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


39 


"  It  isn't  the  dance,"  Rupert  reminded 
him,  eagerly.  "  You  know  what  it  is,  fa 
ther,  but  you  hate  my  music  worse  than  you 
do  the  cowboy  dances !"  he  concluded,  bit 
terly. 

"  And  why,  in  the  name  of  all  that's  sen 
sible,  you  want  to  bring  up  that  subject 
again,  is  more  'n  I  can  tell !"  interposed 
Mrs.  Easton,  briskly.  "  Tears  like  when 
things  begin  to  kind  of  simmer  down  and 
cool  off  you  might  let  'em  alone,  but  you're 
like  that  hymn  speaks  of — '  and  tear  agape 
that  healing  wound  afresh  ' ;  'pears  like  you 
might  let  things  heal  up." 

"  Well,  he's  not  going  to  any  7-H  or  7-1 
to-night,  and  that's  all  there  is  about  it!" 
declared  Rupert's  father,  decisively.  To 
Xora,  a  silent  but  sympathetic  listener  to 
the  brief  dialogue,  there  seemed  something 
half  relenting  in  the  tone  in  which  her  fa 
ther  immediately  added :  "  Why  don't  you 
and  Nora  have  a  game  of  backgammon  ? 
That's  int'resting,  even  to  folks  looking  on, 
which  is  more  than  you  can  say  for  anyone 
looking  on  at  a  dance,  or  at  a  fiddling — it's 
all  the  same  thing." 

"  I  want  to  hear  De  Vargas,"  Rupert  re 
peated  quietly,  but,  if  his  father  could  have 
guessed  it,  with  a  decision  as  inflexible  as 
his  own. 

Cosme  was  sitting  in  a  corner  of  the 
kitchen,  silent,  as  usual,  his  black  eyes 
placidly  observant  of  his  white  associates. 
The  Mexican  lad  seldom  spoke  unless  he 
had  learned  some  new  English  words  and 
wished  to  try  their  effect,  but  now  he  broke 
in  unexpectedly:  "That  De  Vargas — once 
I  hear  him  at  a  perform' — he  play — 
Cosme  flung  out  his  brown  hands,  fingers 
extended  and  palms  upward  in  mute  rap 
ture — "  he  play  so  as  los  angels  goin'  come 
at  him  to  hark." 

"  I  reckon  not,"  returned  his  employer, 
scornfully.  "  When  the  angels  want  to 
hear  good  fiddling — if  there  is  any  good — 
they  can  probably  get  to  hear  it  without 
coming  down  here  to  listen  to  any  greasy 
Mexican.  You'd  better  get  to  be<i  Cosme." 


The  young  Mexican,  taking  his  snubbing 
amiably,  as  usual,  arose  obediently  and  dis 
appeared  up  the  crooked  little  stairway  that 
led  to  his  sleeping  quarters  in  the  attic. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  go  to  bed,  too,"  observed 
Mr.  Carrol,  yawning.  "  I  didn't  sleep  very 
well  last  night." 

"  I  hope  you'll  sleep  well  to-night,"  was 
Rupert's  mental  rejoinder  to  this  statement. 
In  spite  of  his  angry  thoughts,  however, 
and  the  inward  spur  of  the  disobedience 
that  he  was  resolved  upon  committing,  it 
troubled  him  to  see  the  usually  active  man 
struggling  painfully  to  an  upright  position. 
Forgetting  the  rebuff  of  the  previous  even 
ing,  he  went  to  his  father's  side  and  silently 
offered  the  support  of  his  shoulder,  and 
this  time  it  was  not  refused.  When  he 
had  gained  the  bedroom  and  sunk  down  on 
the  side  of  the  bed,  Mr.  Carrol  asked :  "  Did 
you  lock  the  barn  door,  Rupert?" 

"  Yes,"  returned  Rupert,  his  heart-beats 
quickening  with  apprehension  of  the  very 
question  that  came  next: 

"  What  did  you  do  with  the  key?" 

"  It's  in  my  pocket." 

"That's  no  place  for  it;  hang  it  up 
where  it  belongs." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  lad,  obeying  read- 
ily. 

"  St.  Peter  keeps  the  golden  key,"  mur 
mured  Mrs.  Easton,  who  had  followed  them 
with  the  lamp,  "  and  what  a  time  of  it  he 
must  have !  I've  thought,  many  a  time, 
that  I  wouldn't  be  in  his  shoes,  not  for  any 
consideration  you  could  name.  Look  at  the 
responsibility  !  Why,  of  the  two,  I'd  a  sight 
ruther  have  Gabriel's  job,  and  I  never 
thought  I  should  like  that." 

"  I  don't  much  expect  you'll  ever  be 
called  on  to  take  either  one  of  'em,"  said 
Mr.  Carrol,  smiling. 

There  was  no  answering  smile  on 
Rupert's  face  as  he  bade  his  father  good 
night  and  left  the  room.  There  was  more 
than  one  key  in  his  pocket,  and  the  one  that 
he  had  hung  on  the  nail  in  his  father's 
room  was  not  the  key  to  the  barn  door. 


40 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


CHAPTER  XL 
THE  LIGHT  IN  THE  FOG. 

GOIXG  directly  to  his  room,  Rupert 
undressed  and  went  to  bed — but  not 
to  sleep.  He  had  not  retired  with 
any  such  commonplace  intention  as  that. 
For  a  long  time  he  lay  with  eyes  wide 
open  and  ears  strained  to  catch  the  slight 
est  sound.  At  last  he  heard  what  he  was 
waiting  for.  The  kitchen  door  was  opened, 
and  his  grandmother  put  the  cat  outside, 
with  the  usual  admonition  to  that  member 
of  the  family  to  "  go  to  the  barn  and  catch 
a  mouse."  Then  he  caught  Nora's  light 
step  as  she  stole  softly  to  the  door  of  their 
father's  room  and  heard  her  ask  if  there 
was  anything  that  she  could  do  for  him 
before  she  went  to  bed.  A  low-toned  "  No  " 
was  the  answer.  After  that  he  heard  the 
opening  and  closing  of  the  door  of  Nora's 
room,  followed,  directly,  by  the  prodigious 
sounds  that  his  grandmother  made  in  blow 
ing  out  the  lamp.  How  many  times  he  had 
laughed  quietly  to  himself  as  the  familiar 
sounds  came  to  his  ears !  For  Mrs.  Easton 
was  not  built  on  the  model  of  one  who 
can  do  things  quietly,  and  her  nightly  strug 
gles  to  extinguish  the  lamplight  were  far 
from  silent  ones,  each  noisy  and  laborious 
exhalation  of  breath  being  followed  usually 
by  such  emphatic  and  uncomplimentary  ex 
clamations  as:  "  There,  drat  it !  You  didn't 
get  out  that  time,  did  you?  Take  that!" 
Puff  !  puff  !  "  Well,  of  all  the  contraptions, 
this  kar'sene  lamp  is  the  most  aggravatin' ! 
I'd  ten  times  ruther  have  a  taller  dip,  my 
self,  but  I  s'pose  that  wouldn't  be  modern 
enough  for  this  family.  There,  you're  out, 
are  you?"  and  the  final  groping  across  the 
room  in  the  darkness,  when  the  old  lady 
seemed  to  come  in  violent  contact  with  each 
and  every  chair  that  they  had  ever  owned. 
The  little  comedy  went  on  as  usual  this 
evening,  but  Rupert  heard  it  without  amuse 
ment.  What  he  had  been  waiting  for  was 
the  ensuing  silence — a  silence  that  seemed 
to  deepen  and  grow  'more  intense  as  the 


night  wore  on.  Sure,  at  last,  that  the  fam 
ily  were  all  sleeping  soundly,  Rupert  got 
up  and  dressed  himself  in  the  dark — not  in 
his  everyday  attire,  but  in  the  suit  reserved 
for  Sundays  and  special  occasions.  Then 
he  took  the  stable  key  from  the  pocket  of 
the  trousers  that  he  had  worn  that  day, 
and,  shoes  in  hand,  crept  noiselessly  across 
the  kitchen.  Just  as  he  reached  the  kitchen 
door  the  clock  began  striking;  he  stood,  with 
the  door  open,  counting  the  strokes — eleven. 
The  moon  would  not  rise  for  an  hour  yet. 
Closing  the  door  as  silently  as  he  had 
opened  it,  he  sat  down  on  the  doorstep, 
drew  on  his  shoes,  and  hurried  to  the  barn. 
Unlocking  the  door,  he  went  inside,  feel 
ing  his  way  past  the  stalls  where  the  work 
horses  were  drowsily  munching  their  hay, 
until  he  came  to  the  one  occupied  by  his 
pony.  His  heart  was  in  his  throat  for  a 
breathless  instant  when,  peering  intently 
into  the  darkness  of  the  enclosure,  he  could 
make  out  no  dim  form,  as  he  had  been  able 
to  do  in  the  other  stalls. 

"  Vidette  !  Vidette  !"  he  whispered  anx 
iously. 

A  joyous  whinny  answered  the  call,  as 
the  pony,  who  had  been  lying  down,  scram 
bled  rather  stiffly  to  her  feet. 

"Poor  Vidette!  You're  just  about 
played  out,"  murmured  Rupert,  remorse 
fully.  "  Well,  I  won't  take  you  out  again 
to-night.  I  won't  take  you,  either,  you 
clumsy  elephant !"  he  disdainfully  informed 
the  bay  colt,  who  was  Vidette's  stall  mate, 
and  who  went  on  eating,  undisturbed  by 
this  threat.  From  the  bay  colt's  point  of 
view  the  world  had  nothing  better  to  offer 
than  plenty  of  well-cured  grama  grass, 
ripened  by  the  sun  and  the  winds  that  wan 
der  unhindered  over  the  wide  expanse  of 
the  Tefoya  Mesa. 

Turning  about,  Rupert  made  his  way 
past  the  horses  again  until  he  reached 
Snowflake's  stall.  The  petted  creature 
stretched  out  her  soft  nose  and  sniffed  at 
him  inquiringly.  Then,  as  Rupert  held  out 
his  hand,  she  licked  the  palm  in  which  she 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


41 


had  expected  to  find  some  sugar.  "  I'm 
going  to  give  you  a  dash,  my  beauty," 
Rupert  told  her,  patting  her  nose  coaxingly. 

Because  his  father's  saddle  was  already 
adjusted  to  this  particular  horse,  Rupert 
took  it  down  from  its  hook  on  the  wall  and 
tossed  it  over  her  back,  then  he  cinched  it 
tightly,  while  the  mare,  turning  her  head, 
watched  operations  with  the  grave  air  of  a 
connoisseur.  In  leading  her  out,  Rupert 
stumbled  and  fell  on  the  threshold.  The 
mare  was  so  close  on  his  heels  that,  as  she 
suddenly  stopped  in  her  tracks,  her  ad 
vancing  foot  remained  uplifted  over  his 
prostrate  body. 

"  Good  girl !  Good  girl !"  whispered 
Rupert,  springing  to  his  feet  and  patting 
her  tenderly.  "  You  might  have  smashed 
me,  if  you  hadn't  stopped.  I  don't  know 
but  what  I  deserve  smashing  for  taking 
you  out  this  way,  but  I  reckon  it'll  come  out 
all  right,  if  you'll  just  travel." 

So  saying,  he  relocked  the  barn  door,  put 
the  key  in  his  pocket,  and  mounted.  The 
mare  had  already  more  than  proclaimed 
her  willingness  to  travel.  She  was  dancing 
and  curvetting  in  delight  at  the  prospect 
of  a  run.  Rupert  held  her  in  until  he  was 
well  past  the  silent  house,  then  gave  her 
the  rein,  and,  rejoicing  in  the  chance  to 
stretch  her  limbs,  she  loped  away,  swift  as 
the  wind. 

Although  he  was  perfectly  familiar  with 
the  entire  country  within  a  radius  of  ten 
or  fifteen  miles  from  his  home,  it  happened 
that  Rupert  had  had  little  occasion  to 
traverse  the  unfrequented  road  to  the  7-H 
ranch  house.  The  road  was,  in  fact,  so 
little  used  that,  in  the  clear  light  of  day 
it  was  but  a  dim  trail  of  hoofs  and  a  few 
wheel  tracks,  faintly  indicated  on  the  tough, 
wiry  grama  grass,  too  resistent  to  be 
crushed  by  either  hoofs  or  wheels,  or  to 
long  retain  the  imprint  of  their  passing. 
In  addition  to  the  difficulty  of  the  trail  a 
late-risen  fog  had,  since  sunset,  swept  down 
from  the  high  range  to  the  north,  and  was 
slowly  but  surely  obscuring  all  landmarks, 


and  this  despite  the  illuminating  aid  of  a 
full  moon. 

Confident  in  his  knowledge  of  the  gen 
eral  direction  to  be  taken,  however,  Rupert 
rode  on  without  drawing  rein,  and  without 
making  any  particular  attempt  to  follow 
the  road  until  his  own  home  was  fully  five 
miles  behind  him.  The  7-H  Ranch  was 
nearly  twenty  miles  distant — not  far,  as 
neighbors  go,  in  that  land  of  clear  air  and 
level  roads.  Rupert  calculated  that  he 
would  be  able  to  reach  the  scene  of  festiv 
ities  before  midnight,  that  he  might  re 
main  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and  return  long 
before  either  he  or  Snowflake  should  be 
missed.  It  was  perfectly  true,  as  he  had 
told  his  father,  that  he  did  not  care  for  the 
dance  itself. 

Such  rough  and  questionable  entertain 
ments  as  these  were  apt  to  be  did  not  ap 
peal  to  him.  What  he  desired  was  to  hear 
the  famous  violinist's  tone,  to  observe  the 
handling  of  the  instrument.  De  Vargas 
and  his  violin  alone  on  a  hillside  would 
have  proved,  for  him,  just  as  strong  an 
attraction  as  could  De  Vargas  as  the  cen 
ter  of  the  orchestra  of  a  cowboy  dance. 
That  he  was  wearing  himself  out,  render 
ing  himself,  through  so  much  hard  riding 
and  loss  of  sleep,  unfit  for  the  work  that 
his  father  depended  upon  him  to  do,  and 
that,  especially  under  existing  circum 
stances,  he  was  bound  in  honor  as  well  as 
duty  to  do,  and  to  do  well  and  cheerfully, 
never  once  occurred  to  Rupert.  His 
thoughts  were  centered  absolutely,  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  other  considerations,  upon 
himself  and  the  gratification  of  his  own  de 
sires. 

Suddenly  as,  hat  in  hand — lest  at  the  gait 
he  was  riding  it  should  blow  off  and  be 
lost — and  bent  low  over  the  saddle-horn, 
with  his  hair  tossing  wildly  in  the  wind 
and  his  eager  eyes  aglow,  he  fancied  that 
he  could  see,  at  a  considerable  distance 
ahead,  a  faint  illumination,  as  of  a  light 
shining  dimly  in  the  fog.  Halting,  he 
looked  long  and  intently  at  the  spot  that 


42 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


might  be  a  light.  "  Or,  it  may  be  a  good 
deed,"  he  thought,  whimsically.  "  How  like 
a  candle  in  the  dark  shines  a  good  deed 
in  this  naughty  world !"  Satisfied  at  last 
that  it  was  a  light,  and  not  so  very  far 
ahead  of  him,  Rupert  ran  over  in  his  mind 
several  explanations  that  might  account  for 
its  being  there.  Still,  with  the  habit  of 
caution  that  becomes  instinctive  with  the 
plainsmen,  young  or  old,  Rupert  dropped 
silently  from  the  saddle  to  the  ground.  He 
had  already  discovered  he  was  not  directly 
on  the  7-H  road,  even  if  he  was  anywhere 
near  it.  One  of  his  mental  explanations 
required  that  he  should  be  near  it;  it  might 
be  that  the  light  was  that  of  some  belated 
party  on  the  way  to  the  dance — someone 
who  had  met  with  an  accident  perhaps,  and 
been  forced  to  stop.  Convinced,  after  a 
hurried  search,  that  wherever  the  7-H  road 
was,  it  was  not  near  him,  Rupert  started 
out  to  locate  it. 

Bridle  in  hand,  he  led  Snowflake  sev 
eral  yards  to  the  right,  then  as  far  to  the 
left — no  road.  Inwardly  chafing  at  the  loss 
of  time  that  it  would  entail,  Rupert  yet 
resolved  to  find  out  definitely  what  the 
light,  far  from  any  traveled  road,  meant 
at  that  hour  of  the  night. 

To  this  end  he  led  Snowflake  back  for 
some  distance,  hoping  the  while  that  who 
ever  was  accountable  for  the  light's  being 
there  had  not  yet  heard  her  approaching 
footsteps.  If  they  had  not  he  knew  that  it 
was  owing  to  the  deadening  effect  of  the 
fog,  and  he  devoutly  hoped  that  the  fog 
would  still  continue  to  favor  him.  When 
he  judged  that  he  had  got  far  enough  away 
from  the  vicinity  of  the  light,  he  tied  Snow- 
flake's  bridle  to  a  strong  branch  of  a  low 
mesquite,  and,  leaving  her  with  the  injunc 
tion  to  keep  very  still,  started  back  to  in 
vestigate  the  source  of  the  light.  He  was 
a  little  startled  to  find,  on  again  approach 
ing  it,  how  much  nearer  he  had  been  to  it 
before  dismounting  than  he  had  supposed; 
moreover,  it  was  plain  that  Snowflake's 
rapid  footfalls  had  been  heard. 


In  a  sheltered,  almost  overhanging,  recess 
of  the  sheer  wall  that  suddenly  dropped, 
mesa  fashion,  without  warning  to  a  lower 
level — much  as  if  the  lower  land  had  parted 
company  from  the  upper  by  slumping 
straight  downward  away  from  it — was,  as 
Rupert,  stealing  noiselessly  nearer  and 
nearer,  soon  discovered,  a  campfire  of  the 
most  economical  construction.  Over  the 
fire  two  men  were  hovering;  one  was 
yawning  and  stretching  sleepily,  as  if  just 
aroused  from  a  nap,  which,  indeed,  was 
the  case,  while  the  other  busied  himself  in 
propping  a  coffee  pot  securely  over  the  tiny 
flame.  Beyond  the  fire,  close  at  hand, 
Rupert  caught  the  vague  outlines  of  two 
saddled  horses,  tied  in  a  clump  of  mesquite, 
and,  beside  them,  two  others  that  had  on 
rope  halters  only.  Rupert  could  see  that 
the  sleepy  man  was  talking — grumbling,  tie 
judged  by  the  accompanying  pantomime — 
and  that  the  other  was  making  no  reply. 

"  Huh  !"  thought  Rupert.  "  Sitting  down 
on  the  plains,  miles  from  anywhere,  to  make 
coffee  at  midnight;  no  blankets — at  least 
there's  none  in  sight — and  no  camp  equi 
page  except  that  coffee  pot !  Now  I  wonder 
what  that  means?" 

It  is  unlikely  that  his  interest  in  find 
ing  out  what  it  meant  would  have  been 
strong  enough  to  delay  him  longer  had  not 
the  man  who  was  bending  solicitously  over 
the  coffee  pot  looked  up,  suddenly  and 
sharply  as  if  in  irritated  contradiction  of 
something  that  his  companion  was  saying. 
The  firelight,  such  as  it  was,  fell  full  upon 
his  face,  and  Rupert,  with  a  start  of  sur 
prise  that  was  almost  akin  to  terror,  recog 
nized  Ham  Hardy.  His  mind  flew  back 
in  instant  review  of  what  he  had  learned, 
in  common  with  other  people,  of  the  man 
who  was  crouching  over  the  fire. 

During  the  spring  round-up  of  the  year 
before,  Mr.  Carrol,  who  was  very  short  of 
help,  had  engaged  Ham — an  expert  cow 
hand — to  help  during  the  round-up.  Ham 
had  worked  faithfully,  as  Rupert  recalled 
the  circumstances,  for  about  a  week — long 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


43 


enough  to  have  enabled  him  to  become 
thoroughly  familiar  with  the  premises,  out 
side  and  in,  and  with  the  daily  and  nightly 
habits  of  the  family.  Then,  one  morning 
at  the  breakfast  table  Ham  had  suddenly 
announced  his  intention  of  quitting  the  job. 

To  Mr.  Carrol's  indignant  inquiry  as  to 
his  reasons  for  so  doing,  Ham  had  respond 
ed,  with  an  insolent  look  at  Mrs.  Easton, 
who  reigned  supreme  in  the  kitchen : 

"  Don't  like  the  grub — that's  why !" 

Mr.  Carrol,  white  with  wrath,  had  leaped 
from  his  chair  as  if  with  the  intention  of 
attacking  the  boor,  but  he  was  stayed  by 
Mrs.  Easton's  impassioned  entreaty: 

"  James,  James,  let  him  alone  !  I'm  sur 
prised  at  you!  Can't  you  see  that  the  poor 
critter  has  never  before  in  his  life  set  at 
a  table  where  decent  food  wras  spread?  He 
ain't  to  blame.  He's  used  to  livin'  on 
tobacco  and  cheap  coffee,  as  airy  one  with 
eyes  in  their  heads  can  see  by  the  looks 
of  him.  Let  him  alone — do  !" 

Mr.  Carrol  had  taken  her  advice  as  far 
as  laying  violent  hands  on  him  went,  but 
he  had  ordered  the  glowering  reprobate  to 
41  Get  out !"  an  order  which  Hardy,  grin 
ning  maliciously  the  w7hile,  promptly 
obeyed,  merely  pausing  to  inform  his  candid 
hostess : 

"  I'll  git  even  with  you-all,  yit !  You 
jest  watch  out  and  see  !" 

So  far  nothing  had  come  of  the  threat, 
but  the  few  cattlemen  to  wrhom  the  incident 
had  been  related  had  cautioned  Mr.  Carrol 
to  keep  a  close  watch  on  his  stock. 

Unknown  to  the  Carrols,  Mr.  Ham  Hardy 
was  one  of  the  distinctly  bad  men  of  the 
territory.  Those  who  knew  of  his  general 
character  declared  that  it  was  no  part  of 
his  policy  to  undertake  any  honest  work. 
He  had  been,  so  they  declared,  merely 
studying  the  situation,  and  whatever  knowl 
edge  he  had  acquired  was  sure  t&  be  turned 
to  some  evil  account  in  the  future. 

On  ascertaining  the  identity  of  the  man 
with  the  coffee  pot,  Rupert,  who  was  much 
too  near  to  be  safe,  since  the  fog  might  lift 


at  any  instant,  leaving  him  standing  in  the 
full  glory  of  the  moonlight  with  not  so  much 
as  a  mesquite  shrub  to  conceal  himself  be 
hind,  had  begun  a  rapid  retreat,  or,  rather, 
detour.  His  ultimate  object  was  to  gain 
the  brink  of  the  sheer  wall  above  the  fire 
where  Ham  was  boiling  his  coffee. 

Mrs.  Easton,  with  her  usual  clear-sight 
edness,  had  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,  and 
the  hit,  as  Rupert  was  soon  to  learn,  still 
rankled.  Ham  was  addicted  to  the  use  of 
his  villainous  tobacco  and  yet  more  villain 
ous  coffee  as  a  drunkard  is  to  his  whisky, 
and  he  seldom  lost  an  opportunity  to  in 
dulge  in  either,  or  both,  of  them.  If  he 
could,  undiscovered,  gain  this  vantage- 
point,  Rupert  knew  that  he  would  be  able 
to  overhear  whatever  passed  between  them, 
and  it  seemed  to  him,  at  the  moment,  of 
paramount  importance  that  he  should  learn 
what  took  such  a  doubtful  character  as  Mr. 
Hardy — and,  he  had  no  doubt,  since  he 
was  with  Mr.  Hardy,  his  companion — out 
on  a  night  excursion  like  this. 

As  he  hurried  away  he  recalled  the  inci 
dent  of  the  breakfast  table  and  the  care 
fully  veiled  opinion  that  its  recital  had 
elicited  among  the  cattlemen,  that  Mr. 
Hardy's  real  occupation  in  life  was  that  of 
stealing  horses  and  cattle,  and  that  he  was 
an  adept  in  this  line  of  work. 

Certainly,  as  his  father  had  said,  there 
were  horse  and  cattle  thieves  about.  Per 
haps,  Rupert  thought,  as,  having  made  the 
detour,  he  crept  softly,  very  softly,  to  the 
top  of  the  mesa  wall,  he  would  soon  be  able 
to  learn  from  Mr.  Hardy's  own  lips  just 
how  correct  the  general  opinion  in  regard 
to  him  was. 

The  man  whom  Rupert  mentally  desig 
nated,  because  of  the  manner  in  which  he 
had  been  engaged  when  Rupert  first  caught 
sight  of  him,  "  The  Sleepy  One,"  was  still 
grumbling.  That  was  the  first  thing  that 
Rupert  learned  as,  having  gained  the  posi 
tion  that  he  coveted,  he  stretched  himself 
flat  on  his  stomach  but  a  precariously  few 
feet  above  the  two  men. 


£h±Lt  Vsr  a*  burse's  wcr  a-ennrnr". 


ii      IS^TIr  r^  .  i.r  -JgC 


Xis.  I  ini't  i^ 


jj-ii-rr       -e 


-     ^rcr     inr*  - 


.  nert   r.  one  _y  ~s^  ~ 


TKcat  a*      e  sartc    io« 


""  We're  2r^:in*  to   git 


lefore  is  rhs^r  -»e    ziore.  I'-re    ot  tbe 


"2^  —  cnrrt  nat 


""  X-    I  aos't  :  WE  I 


tH    2. 


d  be- 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


45 


ness,  that  he,  though  plainly  startled,  care 
fully  lifted  the  coffee  pot  as  he  sprang, 
thereby  losing  none  of  its  precious  con 
tents. 

Bill  glanced  up  at  the  overhanging  wall 
above  them.  "  I  reckon  the  fog's  loosened 
a  bit  of  the  earth;  it's  always  crumbling." 

It  was.  Rupert  realized  this  and  resolved 
to  make  his  retreat  as  soon  as  the  attention 
of  the  men  was  attracted  from  it.  This 
was  speedily  done.  Ham  Hardy  drew  a 
watch  from  the  pocket  of  his  rough  over 
alls,  and,  leaning  down  over  the  fire,  con 
sulted  it. 

''  It's  goin'  on  after  eleven  now.  The 
Carrol  outfit  will  be  sleepin'  sound  as  so 
many  logs  by  this  time.  '  Early  to  bed  an' 
early  to  rise  ' — that's  the  motter  of  them 
kind  of  folks.  We'll  be  there  at  jest  the 
right  time  if  we  start  now.  Lucky  they 
'ain't  got  no  dog.  I  settled  that  business  for 
them  six  weeks  ago,  and  the  old  man's  been 
too  obstinate  to  git  another.  Lucky  fer  the 
dog  he  didn't  git,  too,  fer  I  kept  a  dose  of 
the  same  stuff  that  fixed  the  first  one  on 
hand  fer  any  other  that  he  might  git. 
Soon's  I  drink  my  coffee  we'll  start;  we'll 
ride  slow." 

Only  waiting  until  Ham  was  fully  occu 
pied  in  drinking  the  coffee — which,  to  judge 
from  the  exclamations  that  accompanied  the 
act,  must  have  been  unpleasantly  hot — 
Rupert  crept  softly  away,  wriggling  along 
on  his  stomach  until  sure  that  it  would  be 
safe  to  get  to  his  feet,  and  even  then  walk 
ing  very  softly  for  a  few  yards  farther  be 
fore  he  reckoned  it  safe  to  break  into  a 
run.  Reaching  Snowflake's  side,  he  mounted, 
and  struck  off  at  a  swift  gallop  straight 
away  from  the  vicinity  of  the  7-H  road 
way — if,  indeed,  he  had  been  near  it.  His 
first  object  was  to  get  well  beyond  possible 
sight  or  pursuit.  Of  his  being  seen  he  felt 
assured  that  there  was  little  danger — in 
fact,  no  danger  whatever ;  and  as  to  being 
pursued — how,  he  asked  himself,  gleefully, 
could  he  be  pursued  if  he  had  been  neither 
heard  nor  seen? 


After  some  minutes  of  rapid  riding, 
Rupert  checked  his  horse  and  listened.  Not 
the  slightest  sound  of  life  broke  the  silence, 
and,  satisfied,  he  started  on  again,  but  at 
a  much  slower  pace,  mentally  questioning 
himself.  Ought  he  to  return  home  and 
warn  his  father  of  the  impending  robbery? 
And,  apart  from  revealing  his  own  disobe 
dience — a  disobedience  that,  as  yet,  had  not 
accomplished  its  purpose — what  good  would 
that  do?  The  thieves  could  not  get  the 
mare  if  she  was  not  in  the  stable,  while  if 
he  now  returned  and  put  her  in  her  usual 
place  they  might  yet — Rupert  found  it  ex 
tremely  hard  to  convince  himself  of  this, 
after  the  enlightenment  that  he  had  just 
received — manage  to  get  her. 

In  the  end  Rupert  succeeded  in  lamely 
congratulating  himself  upon  having  taken 
Snowflake  from  the  stable  and  out  of  dan 
ger  at  such  a  critical  juncture.  He  tried 
hard,  also,  to  convince  himself  that  it  was 
now  almost  a  duty  for  him  to  finish  the  trip 
as  he  had  first  planned  it. 

It  was  a  piece  of  pure  good  fortune  that 
he  had  been  enabled  to  learn  the  intentions 
of  the  thieves  on  the  morrow.  What 
steps  could  he  take  on  the  morrow,  since 
he  could  not  well  tell  his  father  that  she 
was  in  danger,  to  render  Snowflake  any 
safer? 

With  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  Rupert 
finally  dismissed  this  perplexing  question, 
and,  suddenly  remembering  that  there  was 
a  short  cut  over  the  mesa  to  the  7-H, 
turned  Snowflake's  head  in  that  direction. 
Confident,  as  an  older  and  more  experienced 
person  would  not  have  been,  of  his  ability 
to  keep  the  right  trail,  Rupert  again  al 
lowed  the  fast  mare  to  go  at  top  speed,  un 
checked,  almost  unwatched. 

It  was  nearly  morning  when  Mrs.  Easton 
was  awakened  by  an  odd  sound.  Not  a 
loud  sound,  but  so  unusual  that  it  had 
power  to  arouse  her  as  a  far  louder,  famil 
iar  sound  could  not  have  done.  She  sat 
up  in  bed,  listening  anxiously.  The  next 


46 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


instant  she  was  on  her  feet  and  pattering, 
barefoot,  across  the  floor  to  Rupert's  room. 

"  Either  that  boy  has  got  an  amazin'  at- 
tackt  of  nightmares,  or  he's  a-cryin'  in  his 
sleep !"  she  thought  excitedly.  "  And, 
either  way,  he  needs  wakin'  up." 

Reaching  the  boy's  bedside,  however,  she 
found  him  lying  perfectly  quiet,  and  de 
cided  that,  if  he  had  been  beset  by  night 
mares,  they  had  now  taken  flight.  She  fore- 
bore  to  arouse  him,  but  contented  herself 
with  tucking  the  bedclothes  more  closely 
around  his  shoulders.  Then  she  turned 
away,  only  to  stumble  and  nearly  fall  over 
a  little  heap  of  clothing  on  the  floor.  Men 
tally  reciting  some  of  the  things  that  she 
would  say  to  Rupert  when  he  awakened, 
as  to  his  carelessness  in  leaving  his  cloth 
ing  lying  around  in  such  untidy  fashion, 
she  went  back  to  her  bed  and  to  sleep. 

But  Rupert  was  awake,  and  his  pillow 
was  already  wet  with  unavailing  tears. 
After  his  grandmother's  visit  he  stifled  his 
sobs,  and,  growing  calmer,  at  last  fell 
asleep,  only  to  find  that  sleep  was  worse 
than  waking.  In  his  sleep  he  seemed  to 
be  continually  falling — falling — at  the  same 
time  that  he  was  striving,  in  dumb  terror, 
to  keep  from  being  crushed  by  some  other 
falling  body  that  slid,  struggling,  beyond 
him,  on,  and  down,  down  into  unknown 
depths. 

The  slight  noise  that  Cosme,  the  first  one 
up,  made  in  coming  downstairs,  awoke  him 
again.  He  opened  his  heavy  eyes  and 
looked  around.  Day  was  breaking.  The 
growing  light  showed  him  the  clothes  that 
he  had  donned  a  few  hours  before,  lying  in 
a  disorderly  fashion  on  the  floor.  He 
sprang  up,  and,  dressing  quickly,  picked  up 
the  Sunday  suit  and  began  hanging  it  in 
its  place  in  the  closet;  some  white  hairs  on 
the  trousers  legs  caught  his  eye.  He  car 
ried  the  garment  to  the  window,  and,  by 
the  insufficient  light,  brushed  it  as  well  as 
he  could,  thinking  the  while  that  now  he 
knew  how  a  murderer  must  feel  while  try 
ing  to  conceal  the  evidence  of  his  crime. 


Much  as  he  dreaded  to  face  the  moment 
that  he  knew  was  fast  approaching,  he 
dared  not  linger  in  the  bedroom.  He  went 
out  into  the  kitchen  where  his  grandmother 
was  preparing  breakfast,  replying  mechan 
ically  to  her  morning  greeting,  not  a  word 
of  which  he  had  understood.  His  head  was 
so  hot,  'there  was  such  a  ringing  in  his 
ears,  his  heart  felt  so  like  a  leaden  weight 
in  his  breast,  that  he  understood  nothing 
save  that  he  was  waiting  for  something 
that  was  coming,  that  was  close  at  hand, 
when  Cosme  put  his  head  in  at  the  door. 

"  Oh,  at  las'  you  was  up !"  exclaimed  the 
Mexican,  who  prided  himself  on  his  habits 
of  early  rising. 

"What  if  I  am  up,  or  not  up?  What 
business  is  it  of  yours?"  returned  Rupert, 
crossly. 

"  It  don't  make  not  anything  at  me, 
whether  yo'  gits  up  in  the  daytimes,  or  gits 
up  not  at  all,"  replied  Cosme,  cross  in  his 
turn ;  "  but  the  barn  door  was  lock',  an'  yo' 
padre  he  have  the  key." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I'll  get  it  for  you."  Rupert 
turned  away  quickly,  feeling  a  wave  of 
crimson  rush  over  his  face.  Stepping 
softly  into  his  father's  room,  he  took  down 
the  key  that  he  had,  on  the  previous  even 
ing,  hung  on  the  nail  at  the  foot  of  his 
father's  bed,  slipped  it  into  his  pocket,  and, 
taking  therefrom  the  right  key,  went  back 
to  the  kitchen  and  tendered  it  to  Cosme. 
Then,  as  Cosme  started  for  the  barn,  he 
leaned  against  the  sink,  too  unnerved  for 
the  moment  to  stand  upright  and  face  the 
thing  that  was  surely  coming — that  came, 
as  Cosme  reopened  the  door,  his  black  eyes 
glinting  with  excitement. 

"  Hola,  Rupert !  'At  Snowflake  !  Was 
she  at  her  stall  las'  night?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Vive  Dios !  She  was  not  at  it  now — 
she  was  gone !" 

"  I  reckon  not,"  returned  Rupert,  his 
courage  beginning  to  revive,  now  that  the 
crisis  had  come.  "  Probably  you  don't  see 
straight." 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


47 


"  Yo'  go  look  all  over  'at  stall — all  over 
all  'at  stalls,  si — then  yo'  see.  No  alba 
Snowflake  was  there ;  yo'  go  see." 

"  Nonsense !"  reiterated  Rupert,  with 
stiffening  lips,  but  making  no  movement 
toward  an  investigation. 

Nora,  who  had  been  assisting  about  the 
breakfast,  was  already  gone,  however;  she 
came  running  back  at  this  moment  and 
added  her  testimony  to  Cosme's.  "  She  is 
gone,  Rupert;  perhaps  she  has  broken  out 
some  way." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  Rupert,  catching 
at  the  idea  eagerly. 

"If  she's  not  in  her  stall  she's  been 
stolen !"  called  the  father,  sharply,  from 
his  room,  where  he  was  dressing  in  tremu 
lous  haste.  He  now  hobbled  out  and  joined 
the  excited  little  group.  "  I've  always  been 
expecting  that  this  would  happen  !"  he  de 
clared.  "  It's  just  some  more  of  your  care 
lessness,  Rupert;  you  didn't  lock  the  door 
last  night." 

Rupert  said  nothing;  he  was  willing  to 
let  it  go  at  that.  But  Cosme  had  testimony 
to  offer  on  that  point  also.  "  The  door,  she 
was  lock'  this  morning;  me,  myself,  I  unlock 
it  but  now.  I  look,  I  call — all  other  horse 
there  but  alba  Snowflake." 

"  Of  course,"  said  his  master,  irritably. 
"  What  would  any  thief  in  his  senses  want 
of  any  other  horse  if  he  could  steal  Snow- 
flake?" 

Cosme  nodded  his  head  in  solemn  assent 
to  this  proposition,  and  Mr.  Carrol  went 
on:  "They  picked  the  lock,  I  reckon;  it's 
a  spring  padlock,  and  all  they'd  have  to  do, 
after  picking  it  and  getting  the  horse, 
would  be  to  snap  it  on  to  the  staple  again." 

This  was,  in  effect,  exactly  what  Hardy 
and  Bill  had  done  on  opening  the  door  and 
finding  their  prize  was  not  there.  Deciding 
at  once  that  the  fact  that  the  mare  was  not 
in  her  usual  place  did  not  necessarily  prove 
that  she  would  not  be  there  another  time, 
the  two  thieves  had  carefully  replaced  the 
lock  as  they  had  found  it,  and  rode  away, 
resolved  to  make  sure,  another  time,  that 


the  coveted  animal  was  within  the  building 
before  taking  the  trouble  to  pick  the  lock. 

Accompanied  by  the  entire  family,  Mr. 
Carrol  made  his  slow  way  out  to  the  barn, 
intent  upon  a  careful  search  of  the  prem 
ises.  "  Maybe  we  can  find  the  rascals' 
tracks,"  he  said.  "  If  we  can  do  that  it 
may  give  us  some  clue."  And  an  instant 
after  he  called  sharply  to  Rupert :  "  What 
are  you  doing?  If  you  haven't  been  shuf 
fling  your  feet  in  the  sand  there  by  the 
door !  The  place  of  all  others  where  the 
fellow  would  be  likely  to  leave  tracks ! 
Well,  I  swan !  If  you  don't  beat  anything 
I  ever  saw!  You'd  make  a  good  detective; 
they  ought  to  have  you  on  the  force  in  some 
city,"  he  continued,  in  bitter  sarcasm.  "  It 
wouldn't  cost  the  state  much  to  board  its 
criminals  as  long  as  they  had  you  to  help 
catch  'em." 

But  now  came  a  cry  from  Cosme,  who 
had  walked  a  few  paces  away  from  the  door. 
"  Here  was  some  track;  tres,  cuatro,  cinco, 
seis — si,  seis;  no  more  at  all  but  seis ;  also 
the  tracks  of  one  horse.  This,  it  was  where 
the  thief  git  on  Snowflake's  back  !"  he  con 
cluded,  triumphantly. 

Mr.  Carrol  went  over  and  inspected  the 
tracks  carefully.  After  a  moment's  study 
he  drew  a  long  breath,  saying :  "  You're 
right,  Cosme ;  whoever  took  her  rode  her 
away.  Possibly  he  took  a  saddle,  too." 

Nora  had  already  thought  of  that ;  she 
now  announced  that  all  of  the  saddles  were 
in  their  places,  and  such  proved  to  be  the 
case,  as  Mr.  Carrol  found  on  looking  for 
himself.  As  they  were  returning  to  the 
house,  Mr.  Carrol  said : 

"  Saddle  up  as  soon  as  you  have  had 
your  breakfast,  Cosme,  and  ride  down  to 
Pinos  Altos,  to  notify  the  sheriff.  It's  his 
business  to  catch  horse  thieves.  But  I'll 
give  fifty  dollars  to  anyone  who  finds 
Snowflake.  I'd  give  more  if  I  had  it  to 
give ;  I'd  be  safe  enough  in  offering  'most 
anything,  though,  for  I  don't  think  anyone 
will  ever  claim  the  reward.  Whoever  has 
taken  Snowflake  had  his  plans  all  laid;  he'll 


48 


THE  MYSTERY'  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


probably  run  her  over  into  Mexico,  and 
when  she's  once  there  she's  the  same  as 
dead  to  us.  The  Mexicans  ain't  hurting 
themselves  to  help  Americans  catch  horse 
thieves  in  their  country." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
NORA  FINDS  SOME  WHITE  HAIRS. 

THE  family,  coming  in  from  the  search 
for  traces  of  the  thief,  or  thieves, 
who  had  taken  the  white  mare,  gath 
ered  at  the  breakfast  table,  but,  in  the  midst 
of  the  general  excitement,  Rupert  neither 
ate  nor  spoke. 

One  member  of  the  family  alone  noted 
this  fact.  That  one  was  Nora. 

When  Cosme  had  gone,  bearing  instruc 
tions  to  spread  the  tidings  of  the  mare's 
disappearance  as  far  and  as  fast  as  possible, 
Mr.  Carrol  turned  wearily  to  his  son : 

"  You'd  better  ride  down  to  the  canon, 
Rupert,  and  see  that  those  steers  are  all 
right.  They're  the  best  we've  got,  and  it 
wouldn't  surprise  me  if  they'd  been  lifted, 
too.  We  shall  have  to  put  on  a  night 
guard,  I'm  afraid.  We  might  as  well  bank 
rupt  ourselves  paying  guards  as  to  sit  still 
and  let  the  rustlers  take  all  we've  got.  If 
the  steers  are  all  right  we  won't  put  on  the 
guards  just  yet,  though.  It  may  be  only 
horses  that  the  thieves  are  taking,  and 
they've  got  the  best  one  that  we  shall  ever 
have,  already." 

Rupert  turned  away  without  comment. 
He  was  glad  of  employment,  and  doubly 
glad  to  be  alone.  Riding  to  the  point  desig 
nated,  he  found  the  cattle  safe,  as  he  had 
every  reason  to  expect  that  they  would  be, 
and,  dismounting,  he  left  his  pony  free  to 
graze  at  will,  while  in  an  abandon  of  de 
spair  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground  that 
he  wished  might  open  and  cover  him  from 
sight.  It  seemed  to  him  at  the  moment 
that  he  could  never  be  a  happy,  careless 
boy  again ,  never  know  the  restfulness  of 
dreamless  sleep;  yet,  before  very  long,  he 


was  unconscious  that  the  watchful  pony 
came  and  sniffed  inquiringly  at  the  brown 
head  lying  so  low  in  the  grass,  or  that  the 
grazing  cattle,  chancing  to  come  near, 
started  back  in  affright  at  sight  of  the  mo 
tionless  herder. 

The  sun  was  well  past  the  meridian  when 
he  awoke.  Vidette,  with  perhaps  some 
vague  recognition  of  her  master's  misery, 
was  close  at  hand,  but  the  cattle  had  strayed 
so  far  that  it  took  some  time  to  round 
them  up. 

When  that  was  done  it  was  time  to  re 
turn  home,  and  so  the  dreadful  day  was 
done.  He  found  Cosme  at  home  before  him. 
Cosme  reported  that  the  sheriff  had  taken 
the  description  of  the  lost  mare,  which,  to 
gether  with  the  intelligence  of  the  prom 
ised  reward,  was  to  be  scattered  far  and 
wide  throughout  the  cattle  country. 

"  Also  he  say,  'at  sheriff,  'at  it  was  not 
yo'  who  was  alone  in  losin'  something.  That 
Sefior  Sanford,  who  have  the  fas'  horse, 
las'  night  he  los'  two  of  them.  The  sheriff 
say  this  country  it  was  gittin'  so  hot,  some 
body  got  to  hang  pretty  soon.  Also  Senor 
Sanford  he  have  offer  one  big  rewar'  for  to 
fin'  the  thiefs  what  took  his  horses;  an'  also 
the  county,  it  offer  rewar'  for  fin'  'em. 
Make  one  big  fortune  for  'at  somebody 
what  fin's  'at  thiefs !  The  sheriff  he  have 
gone  with  a  small  lot  of  men  ridin'  down 
the  road  w'at  leads  to  Mexican  border." 
Cosme  concluded  his  recital  with  the  words: 
"  He  think,  'at  sheriff,  'at  we  goin'  git 
Snowflake  agin.  He  say  she  too  well 
known — too  easy  for  to  foller,  'count  of 
her  color,  for  'em  to  git  away  with  her." 

"  I  hope  he's  right,"  said  Mr.  Carrol. 
"  But  I  don't  think  he  is.  Whoever  took 
Snowflake  made  sure  of  its  being  a  success 
ful  steal  before  he  tried  it  on." 

"  I  tole  him,  me,"  Cosme  went  on,  proud 
ly,  "  'at  he  mus'  be  lookin'  for  some  small- 
size  thief;  the  man  w'at  stole  alba  Snow- 
flake,  he  got  small-size  feet — mos'  small  as 
mine."  Cosme  had  the  slender,  delicate 
foot  of  his  race;  he  advanced  one  of  these 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


49 


members  now  and  looked  at  it  approvingly 
as  he  remarked,  "  Mos'  small's  mine,  it 
was." 

Rupert,  who  was  present,  was  not  even 
thrilled  by  Cosme's  words.  He  had  already 
been  through  so  much  that  his  capacity  for 
suffering  seemed  dulled,  but,  glancing  up 
suddenly,  as  Cosme  finished  his  story,  he 
was  startled  and  shocked  by  the  glimpse 
that  he  caught  of  Nora's  quickly  averted 
face.  What  ailed  Nora?  Did  she  grieve 
so  over  the  loss  of  the  mare?  Or — why 
should  she  avert  her  face  from  him,  and 
why  should  she  look  so  terrified,  so  appre 
hensive? 

With  a  recklessness  born  of  utter  de 
spair,  Rupert  determined  to  know.  Nora 
left  the  room  soon  afterward  to  attend  to 
her  little  flock  of  poultry,  and  Rupert  fol 
lowed  her.  When  they  were  out  of  earshot 
from  the  house  he  began  at  once : 

"  You  think  a  lot  of  '  alba  Snowflake,' 
as  that  fool  Cosme  calls  her,  don't  you, 
Nora?"  he  asked,  in  a  voice  full  of  pain 
and  bitterness. 

"  Yes,  'I  do — or  did,"  returned  Nora, 
steadily,  although  the  color  forsook  her 
face. 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  did  '  ?  Don't  you 
think  anything  of  her  now?" 

."Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?  Am  I  my 
brother's  keeper?"  The  words  seemed 
sounding  in  her  ears,  now  near,  now  far 
off ;  now  low  and  soft,  now  loud  and  ter 
rible,  in  their  commanding  suggestiveness. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  aloud,  in  a  clear  voice, 
and  with  an  involuntary  upward  movement 
of  her  trembling  hands — a  movement  such 
as  hands  that  were  clinging  blindly  to  a 
cross  might  make.  Her  heart  had  an 
swered  the  question  that,  to  her  vivid  imag 
ination  seemed,  just  then,  to  fill  all  space. 

But  Rupert  took  the  answer  differently. 
"  Why  did  you  say  did,  then?"  he  re 
peated. 

"  Because  " — she  looked  in  his  face,  hesi 
tated,  and  concluded  lamely :  "  Grandma 
says,  '  What  is  past,  is  past;  let  it  rest.'  " 


"  That's  very  pretty,  or  would  be,  if  one 
knew  what  you  were  talking  about.  Best 
thing  you  can  do  with  some  objects  is  just 
to  let  them  alone.  Say  a  dead  dog,  for  in 
stance;  but  when  it  comes  to  a  stolen 
horse — 

"  Or  a  dead  one,"  interposed  his  sister, 
in  a  quiet  voice.  Her  face  gleamed  white 
in  the  gathering  dusk.  Rupert  looked  at 
her,  but  he  did  not  speak,  and  she  went  on 
in  a  tone  so  low  that  he  bent  his  head  to 
catch  the  words.  "  You  know,  Rupert  dear, 
I  was  the  first  one,  after  Cosme,  to  go  to 
the  barn  this  morning.  I  thought  of  the 
saddles  right  off,  and  looked  for  them. 
When  I  came  to  father's,  I — I  found  the 
saddle  blanket  lined — quite  lined — with 
white  hairs;  it  was  lying  on  the  saddle,  and 
father  had  used  the  bay  colt  last.  Snow- 
flake  is  shedding  her  coat.  I've  heard  fa 
ther  say  that  he  looks  as  though  he'd  been 
out  in  a  snowstorm  every  time  he  rides  her 
lately.  I — I  shook  the  blanket  and  turned 
it  the  other  side  out  before  Cosme  came 
up — and — I  know  that  De  Vargas  plays  so 
well — and  Vidette  was  tired — and  Snow- 
flake  had  been  doing  nothing.  Afterward, 
when  I  was  making  your  bed,  there  were 
white  hairs — oh,  so  many  of  them — on  the 
carpet,  and  your — your  Sunday  clothes — 
She  broke  down  suddenly,  and,  leaning 
against  the  corral  fence,  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Rupert  continued  to  stare  at  her  like  one 
stunned  for  a  breathless  instant,  then :  "  I 
see  what  you  are  up  to,"  he  said,  harshly. 
"  You  mean  to  tell  father.  All  right,  tell 
him — just  tell  him  your  mean,  sneaking 
suspicions.  What  proof  have  you  got  to 
support  them?  Some  white  hairs!  Didn't 
I  take  care  of  all  the  horses  yesterday? 
But  I  wouldn't  have  believed  that  you'd 
turn  against  me,"  he  continued,  his  lips 
quivering.  "  It's  all  right,  though,  if  you 
feel  like  it;  don't  hesitate  on  my  account. 
Just  tell  father  all  that  you  think  you 
know;  make  the  most  of  it,  for  it's  the  last 
chance  you'll  ever  have  to  tell  anything 


50 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


about  me."  He  threw  out  his  arms  with  a 
passionate  gesture — in  which,  however, 
there  was  no  suggestion  of  clinging  to  a 
cross — and  concluded  bitterly :  "  I  haven't 
a  friend  on  earth,  not  one;  and  I  don't 
care,  either — only,  I  wouldn't  have — thought 
that  you'd  go  back  on — on — me,  Nora."  He 
turned,  and  was  striding  away  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  highway,  when  Nora  sprang  to 
his  side.  She  caught  his  hand,  and,  when 
he  tried  to  shake  her  off,  held  on  with  all 
her  strength. 

"  Wait !"  she  implored,  breathlessly. 
"  Wait !"  As  the  boy,  angry  and  humiliated, 
still  tried  to  wrench  away  his  hand,  she 
moaned :  "  Rupert,  Rupert,  Rupert !  I  shall 
die  if  you  leave  me !"  In  her  anguish  she 
sank  down  on  her  knees  before  him,  and 
her  forehead  was  smirched  with  the  gray 
dust  of  the  roadway.  Her  brother's  keeper  ! 
If  he  fled  from  home  in  his  present  mood — 
mad  with  shame  and  remorse,  feeling,  too, 
that  she,  in  whom  he  most  trusted,  had 
failed  him  in  his  need — what  calamity 
worse  than  death  might  not  his  reckless 
ness  lead  him  into?  She  knelt  in  the  dust 
before  him,  clinging  to  his  knees  and  cry 
ing  abjectly. 

"  Get  up,  Eleanor,"  he  said  at  last,  in 
a  husky  voice.  "Don't  cry  any  more;  I 
won't  go  away."  He  did  not  add,  "  I  will 
tell  the  truth." 

Nora  got  up;  she  laid  her  two  hands  on 
his  shoulders,  looking  up  into  the  face  that 
was  a  trifle  above  her  own.  "  I  haven't 
asked  you  any  questions,  Rupert,"  she  said, 
earnestly,  "  and  I  will  not  ask  any.  When 
the  time  comes,  if  there  is  anything  that 
you  ought  to  tell,  I  kno^w  that  you  will 
tell  it.  But,  oh,  Rupert !  do  not  think,  no 
matter  what  comes  up,  that  I  will  say  any 
thing  against  you.  Oh,  if  you  knew  how  it 
hurts  me  to  hear  you  say  that  no  one  cares 
for  you,  when  I — when  I —  She  broke 
down  again. 

"  I  say  such  things  because  I'm  so  hate 
ful  that  I  don't  see  how  anyone  can  care 
for  me,"  Rupert  confessed,  miserably. 


"  That's  a  pretty  big  mistake,"  Nora  re 
turned,  with  a  forlorn  little  smile.  Her 
hands  fell  away  from  his  shoulders,  and 
she  went  about  attending  to  the  wants  of 
the  chickens  that,  a  motley  crew  in  various 
stages  of  development,  were  flocking  after 
her. 

Rupert  stood  in  his  place  and  watched 
her  a  moment;  then,  with  his  back  turned, 
"  It  was  an  accident,"  he  said,  in  a  hushed 
voice. 

Nora  nodded;  the  cross  to  which  she 
had  seemed  but  now  to  be  clinging  was 
already  pressing  heavily  upon  her  shoul 
ders. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MRS.  EASTON  BEMOANS  THE  Loss  OF 
SNOWFLAKE. 

AFTER  a  few  days  the  little  household 
settled  down  as  nearly  as  might  be, 
under  existing  circumstances,  to  the 
usual  routine,  but,  of  course,  there  was  a 
difference. 

The  head  of  the  house,  held  prisoner  by 
his  injured  ankle,  fretted  ceaselessly  at  his 
enforced  inactivity,  while  Rupert,  never 
rugged,  was  daily  growing  paler  and 
thinner.  In  spite  of  this,  however,  he  was 
attending  to  the  range  work,  all  of  which 
now  devolved  upon  him,  with  an  anxious 
solicitude  that  he  had  never  before  dis 
played.  His  father,  observing  this,  began 
to  question,  inwardly,  if  he  had  not  been 
mistaken  about  his  son — perhaps,  after  all, 
the  boy  was  entitled  to  more  credit  than  he 
had  been  giving  him.  But  it  was  a  part  of 
the  general  misunderstanding  between  the 
two  that  it  never  occurred  to  Mr.  Carrol 
to  speak  a  word  of  praise  or  commendation. 

Rupert,  sometimes  dwelling  with  bitter 
ness  upon  his  father's  tendency  to  find  fault 
with  him,  was  wont  to  paraphrase  a  line 
once  written  in  description  of  the  character 
of  Lincoln :  "  Oh,  quick  to  praise  and  slow 
to  blame !"  Only,  unhappily,  Rupert  felf 


In  her  anguish  she  sank  on  her  knees  before  him. 


<          I       r       1 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


53 


that  the  description  best  fitted  his  father 
when  it  was  reversed. 

Cosme,  as  he  respectfully  intimated  on 
more  than  one  occasion,  would  have  been 
glad  to  assist  in  the  search  for  the  mare, 
but,  to  his  secret  disgust,  was  set  to  work 
at  the  spring  plowing,  instead. 

Mr.  Carrol  chafed  at  being  kept  idly  at 
home  when  he  was  so  much  needed  in  a 
half-dozen  other  places;  he  was  sure,  for 
one  thing,  that  if  he  had  been  searching 
for  the  stolen  mare,  he  would  have  found 
her,  or  tidings  of  her,  before  three  days 
were  past.  He  was  repeating  this  state 
ment  for  the  twentieth  time,  one  day,  when, 
to  his  unconcealed  astonishment,  Mrs. 
Easton,  who  had  heard  the  words  often 
enough  before,  without  being  visibly 
affected,  sat  down,  and,  burying  her  face 
in  her  apron,  burst  into  tears. 

Although  touched  by  this  display  of  affec 
tion  for  his  lost  pet,  Mr.  Carrol  was  also 
vaguely  irritated  by  its  utter  uselessness. 

"  I  don't  know  as  there's  any  use  in  cry 
ing  about  it,"  he  observed,  at  length,  as  his 
mother-in-law  continued  to  sob.  "  She's 
gone,  and  there's  no  help  for  it,  as  far  as 
I  can  see." 

Now  it  might  have  been  noted  of  Mrs. 
Easton,  if  anyone  had  ever  taken  the  trou 
ble  to  reflect  on  the  subject,  that  she  sel 
dom  wasted  her  ammunition ;  in  other 
words,  when  she  felt  moved  to  give  a 
dramatic  lecture,  or  a  symbolical  exposi 
tion  of  any  theme  that  interested  her,  she 
liked  to  have  her  little  audience  all  on 
hand.  On  this  occasion  Rupert  and  Nora 
were  both  present,  as  she  made  sure  by 
peeping  furtively  out  from  the  corner  of 
her  apron,  before  she  responded,  sighing: 

"  Yes,  James,  them  are  true  words,  and 
sad  ones.  What  does  Mr.  Watts  say — to  be 
sure,  he  was  speakin'  of  a  man,  but  it 
amounts  to  the  same  thing — '  she  was  a 
mare ;  take  her  for  all  in  all,  we  ne'er  shall 
see  her  like  again  !'  And  such  a  beautiful 
critter,  too,  and  so  affectionate,  and  so  gen 
tle — except  when  she  got  mad — and  fast ! 


Them  razor-back  hogs  that  we  used  to 
know  of,  down  in  Texas,  that  they  called 
wind-splitters,  wasn't  a  circumstance  to  her 
when  she  got  fairly  started.  Snowflake ! 
It's  a  pretty  name,  too,  but  I  wouldn't  won 
der  if  it  was  a  unfort'nate  one.  Snow- 
flakes  melt.  So  has  she  as  far  as  we  can 
make  out,  and  we  are  left  like  Rachael, 
mournin'  for  her  children  and  refusin'  to 
be  comforted." 

"  There's  no  use  in  taking  it  to  heart 
that  way,"  remonstrated  her  son-in-law,  in 
a  voice  that  was  but  little  better  than  a 
growl.  He  had  an  uneasy  apprehension  that 
his  astute  mother-in-law  was,  in  some  way, 
laying  a  trap  for  him. 

Mrs.  Easton  put  down  her  apron  and 
stared  at  him  in  amazement.  "  '  Bid  the 
stricken  deer  go  weep,  the  hart  ungalled 
play,' "  she  murmured,  reproachfully,  and 
then :  "  I  don't  want  to  as  much  as  intimate, 
James,  that  you  are  wantin'  in  affection  for 
that  mare,  but  your  words  do  have  that 
kind  of  a  sound  to  me.  Why,  what  will  be 
come  of  us  if  she  ain't  found !  Mr.  Watts 
says,  speakin'  of  the  Goddess  of  Liberty, 
'  I  have  but  one  lamp  by  which  my  feet  are 
guided,'  he  says.  Regardin'  this  family, 
the  lamp  by  which  their  feet  was  guided, 
appears  to  'a'  been  that  mare.  Now  she's 
gone  out,  and  what  is  the  consequence? 
Here  you  be,  frettin'  and  worryin'  to  that 
extent,  James,  that,  if  it  was  my  last  words, 
I  must  say  it:  your  words  are  like  nothin' 
more  nor  less  than  a  bunch  of  them  spnt- 
terin'  firecrackers,  an/1  all  a  body  has  to  do 
to  set  'em  off,  is  to  speak  of  that  mare,  and 
they  go  fizz  !  all  at  once.  You  refuse  to  be 
comforted ;  you  can't  see  no  good  in  nothin' 
any  more.  Now  here's  Rupert :  some  folks 
might  think — they  reely  might,  James — that 
he  in  his  way — which  is  a  diffrunt  one, 
I  ain't  denyin'  that — is  almost  as  beautiful 
a  critter,  and  worth  as  much  concern,  as 
that  four-legged  mare.  Well — you  set  still, 
Rupert,"  she  commanded,  as  the  boy  made 
an  uneasy  movement,  as  if  meditating  es 
cape.  "  He's  gettin'  as  thin  as  a  shadder. 


54 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RAXCH. 


and  as  white  as  a  sheet;  he  don't  eat 
enough  to  keep  a  plains  sparrer  alive  since 
the  mare  was  took.  Nobody,  save  and  ex- 
ceptin'  his  old  grandma,  has  any  eyes  for 
him:  other  eyes  are  a-searchin'  the  earth 
for  tracks  of  that  mare's  hoofs  by  day.  and 
the  sky  for  traces  of  her  spirit  by  night. 
And  Xora?  I'd  like  to  ask  any  of  you  what 
would  become  of  this  family  without  Xora ! 
Yet,  here  she  is,  a-taggin'  along  in  Rupert's 
footsteps,  still  and  white  and  a-startin'  at 
every  sound,  like  a  hunted  maverick.  So 
I  say  again.  Lord  grant  that  we  may  learn 
the  fate  of  that  mare  soon,  or  this  family 
will  grieve  itself  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 
Scripture  says,  '  Make  not  to  yourselves 
idols  of  wood,  or  of  brass,'  and  I  guess  it 
mentions  a  few  other  animals,  but  it  don't 
say  nothin'  about  horses.  So.  James,  we'll 
go  right  on  mournin'  for  the  mare,  and 
makin'  ourselves,  and  everybody  that  comes 
nigh  us,  just  as  miserable  as  we  can,  '  for 
'tis  our  nature  to.'  and  I  do  presume  to 
say  that  we  all  of  us  furnish  an  interestin' 
spectacle  to  that  Cosme.  who  keeps  his 
weather  eye  on  us,  indoors  and  out,  and 
blinks  world  without  end,"  she  concluded, 
out  of  breath,  and  got  up  hastily  to  shoo 
out  an  intrusive  chicken  that  had  ventured 
to  strut  in  at  the  open  doorway. 

As  she  disappeared  Mr.  Carrol  turned  to 
his  son  and  regarded  him  attentively. 
"  You  don't  look  very  well,  Rupert ;  your 
grandmother  is  right — and  you,  too,  Xora. 
I  hope  it  isn't  as  she  thinks — just  the  loss 
of  the  mare  that  is  troubling  you?"  There 
was  a  hint  of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 

Rupert,  staring  steadily  out  of  the  win 
dow,  said  nothing.  Xora  felt  that  the  bur 
den  of  responsibility  for  an  answer  rested 
with  her. 

"  I — don't  people  often  get  kind  of  run 
down  in  the  spring,  father?  I  guess  I 
have  been  kind  of  dull  lately  on  account 
of  the  weather.  Maybe  Rupert  feels  it,  too," 
with  a  wistful  glance  in  his  direction,  and 
a  hope  of  accounting  for  his  changed  looks 
on  the  same  general  ground. 


"  Well,"  returned  her  father,  evidently 
dissatisfied  with  this  explanation,  "  I  never 
supposed  that  children  brought  up  as  you 
have  been,  out  of  doors  in  all  weathers, 
from  babyhood  up,  could  get  run  down  in 
this  style,  just  because  winter's  gone  and 
summer's  coming.  You'll  soon  need  a  pair 
of  band-boxes  to  live  in  at  this  rate.  As 
for  Snowflake,''  he  went  on,  in  a  changed 
voice.  "  maybe  I  have  seemed  to  care  an 
uncommon  lot  about  her.  and  to  feel  her 
loss  more  than  I  ought  to.  Your  grand 
mother  is  generally  right  about  such  things, 
but  it  isn't  altogether  on  account  of  Snow- 
flake  herself  that  I  feel  the  loss.  To  tell  the 
truth,"  he  added,  hesitating,  the  confession 
evidently  at  war  with  his  usual  secretive 
habit,  "  I  had  decided  to  sell  her." 

"  To  sell  her !"  echoed  both  his  listeners, 
dismayed. 

"  Yes,  to  sell  her,"  Mr.  Carrol  repeated : 
"  that  man  that  was  up  from  Santa  Fe  last 
month  offered  me  three  hundred  dollars 
for  her.  I  didn't  say  then  that  I'd  let  him 
have  her — it  was  hard  for  me  to  make  up 
my  mind  to  part  with  her — but  I  told  him 
to  call  on  his  way  back,  and  I'd  give  a 
definite  answer.  He  was  on  his  way  to 
Denver,  and  he's  due  back  next  week.  I 
had  decided  to  let  him  have  her;  it's  too 
risky,  as  we've  found  out  to  our  cost,  for 
us  to  try  to  keep  so  valuable  an  animal." 

"  But,"  interposed  Xora,  "  you  are  so 
fond  of  her." 

"  Yes,"  her  father  assented,  "  but  I'm 
fond  of  something  besides  her,  too."  His 
glance  at  Rupert  emphasized  the  remark. 
Rupert,  with  his  eyes  fixed  determinedly 
on  the  view  outside  the  window,  did  not 
see  the  look,  and  his  father,  as  if  already 
half  repenting  the  tacit  admission  of  affec 
tion  for  him.  went  on  gloomily:  "There's 
no  use  in  talking  of  all  that  now.  The 
horse  is  gone,  and  three  hundred  dollars 
with  her;  the  spring  work  is  behindhand; 
I'm  crippled,  you  both  getting  peaked;  your 
grandmother  crying,  and  nobody  up  to  time 
except  Cosme — not,"  he  continued,  his 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


55 


sense  of  justice  stirring  suddenly,  "  but 
what  you're  doing  the  best  you  can  lately, 
Rupert — I  ain't  making  any  complaint  of 
the  way  you're  handling  the  cattle,  the  last 
few  days — but  there  ought  to  be  two  hands 
on  the  range  all  the  time  now." 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  I  can  manage  well  enough 
alone,"  Rupert  replied. 

His  voice  sounded  so  lifeless  and  weary 
that  his  father  looked  at  him  solicitously. 

"  I  don't  know — you  do  appear  to  be 
pretty  well  run  down,"  he  said,  slowly; 
"  kind  of  odd  that  I  hadn't  noticed  it  be 
fore." 

"  And  now,  thanks  to  grandma,  you 
won't  notice  anything  else,"  thought  the 
boy,  ungratefully. 

He  was  mistaken.  Mr.  Carrol  did  not 
seem  to  be  watching  him  particularly  as  the 
days  went  by.  He  took  to  thinking  in 
stead,  which  was  infinitely  more  dangerous, 
for  he  had  presently  traced  the  starting 
point  of  Rupert's  altered  looks  and  silent 
ways  back  to  the  night  that  the  mare  was 
stolen.  Yet  he  had  never  really  cared 
so  much  for  the  handsome  animal  as  for 
his  own  homely  little  cow-pony,  Vidette ; 
he  would  miss  Vidette,  if  she  should  dis 
appear,  and  grieve  for  her,  probably,  but 
his  father  did  not  believe  that  her  disap 
pearance  would  affect  his  health  as  the  loss 
of  Snowflake  appeared  to  have  done.  And 
Nora?  Mr.  Carrol  was  suddenly  reminded 
at  this  point  in  his  cogitations  of  one  of 
Mrs.  Easton's  oft-repeated  quotations — 
credited,  of  course,  to  the  versatile  Mr. 
Watts :  "  True  hearts  are  more  than  coro 
nets,  and  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood." 
"  If  there's  a  true  heart  on  earth,"  mused 
Nora's  father,  "  it's  Nora's,  and  whatever 
affects  her  brother  affects  her,  of  course; 
and  whatever  affects  either  of  them 
affects  me — but  I  reckon  they're  too  young 
to  understand  that.  For  the  present  I'll 
keep  that  reward  standing,  and,  for  the  rest, 
I'll  wait— I'll  wait." 


CHAPTER  XV. 
COSME  BRINGS  NEWS. FROM  PINOS  ALTOS. 

ON  THE  same  day  that  the  disappear 
ance  of  the  famous  white  mare  of 
the  Carrols'  was  being  circulated 
throughout  the  country,  Valdez,  senior,  the 
father  of  Cosme,  presented  himself  at  the 
store  where  Cosme  had  but  the  day  before 
purchased  a  wagon  load  of  supplies. 

Valdez  was  a  good  customer,  so  the 
grocer  shrewdly  bided  his  time.  It  was 
not  until  the  Mexican  was  slowly  strapping 
up  his  depleted  leather  wallet  that  the 
tradesman  remarked,  affably: 

"  You  must  be  going  out  on  a  long  trip, 
this  time.  This  makes — lemme  see — five  V 
five's  ten — 'n'  ten's  twenty — yes,  thirty-five 
dollars'  worth  of  stuff  that  you've  bought 
in  the  last  two  days.  Coin'  into  Mexico?" 

"  No,"  returned  Valdez,  shortly,  and 
added : 

"Me?  I  was  have  bought  but  fifteen 
dolla'  of  stuff." 

"That's  to-day?  Oh,  yes,  of  course,  it's 
all  right.  I  hope  you  don't  think  I  men 
tioned  it  because  I  wanted  the  pay.  I 
don't.  You  can  have  all  the  time  you  ask 
from  this  house*,  now  I  tell  you.  But  I  was 
thinking  of  the  twenty  dollars'  worth  that 
Cosme  got  for  you,  yesterday." 

"  Let  me  see  that  twenty  dolla'  of 
Cosme,"  said  Cosme's  father. 

He  examined  the  bill  that  the  merchant 
brought  him,  going  over  each  item  care 
fully,  although  he  could  not  read  a  word 
of  English,  and,  when  told  what  Cosme  had 
said,  paid  it  without  a  word.  But  his  eyes 
burned  and  his  grizzled  mustache  seemed  to 
to  bristle. 

The  storekeeper  watched  him  thought 
fully.  "  That  little  rascal  of  a  Mexican's 
been  piling  up  trouble  for  himself,  I 
shouldn't  wonder,"  was  his  mental  com 
ment,  as  Valdez,  looking  neither  to  the 
right  nor  left,  walked  steadily  out  of  the 
store. 

Certainly  it  was  an  evil  day  for  Cosme. 


56 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


On  the  street  his  father  met  an  acquaint 
ance  who  made  haste  to  tell  him  that,  on 
the  day  before,  he  had  seen  Cosme,  al 
though  Cosme  had  not  known  of  his  pres 
ence,  being,  at  the  moment,  absorbed  in  bet 
ting  on  the  wheel  of  fortune.  Cosme's  fa 
ther,  having  the  fortunate  gift  of  silence, 
made  no  comment  on  this  intelligence,  but 
there  was  no  occasion  for  reticence  with 
himself,  and,  driving  homeward,  he  often 
looked  speculatively  at  the  tall  stalks  of 
cane  cactus  growing  thick  and  rank  in  iso 
lated  patches.  He  thought  how  the  Peni- 
tentes,  of  which  savage  sect  he  was  a  mem 
ber,  lashed  themselves  with  the  stinging 
thorns,  and  reflected  complacently  on  the 
good  that  it  did  them. 

"  I  makes  'at  boy  to  rememb'  dis  time," 
he  muttered.  "  I  makes  him  to  carry  some 
scar.  I  teaches  him  to  make  up  lies  at 
me,  si.  I  teaches  him  to  gamble !  Wen 
I  gits  back  from  dis  roun'-up,  we  see  !" 

The  search  for  the  lost  mare  was  pushed 
so  far — they  were  all  so  sure  that  she  had 
been  stolen  and  ridden  awray  at  speed — 
that  Rupert,  who  alone  could  have  told 
where  she  was  lying  dead,  began  to  breathe 
more  easily.  He  did  not  despise  himself 
any  the  less,  and,  in  his  heart,  longed  to  go 
to  his  father  with  the  truth.  The  longer 
he  delayed  the  harder  the  task  became, 
until  his  morbid  dread  of  his  father's  merci 
less  reproaches  grew  into  a  shrinking 
terror.  '  It  seemed  to  him  that  it  would  be 
easier  to  be  condemned  as  a  horse  thief 
than  to  listen  to  what  his  father  might,  with 
good  reason,  say  to  him. 

Nearly  three  weeks  slipped  by.  Mr. 
Carrol,  whose  hurt  had  proved  to  be  of  a 
much  more  serious  character  than  the  doc 
tor — in  the  hasty  examination  that  the  vic 
tim  would  tolerate,  and  that  for  the  one 
occasion  only — had  diagnosed,  was  yet  hob 
bling  about  the  premises  on  crutches,  so 
that,  as  Rupert  could  not  be  spared  from 
the  range  work,  Cosme  was  again  sent  to 
Pinos  Altos  for  supplies. 

Rupert,  knowing  the  young  Mexican  for 


the  treacherous  soul  that  he  was,  had,  when 
he  heard  the  matter  mentioned,  a  momen 
tary  impulse  to  protest  against  it,  but,  along 
with  the  numbing  sense  of  misery  that  .iad 
been  his  since  he  entered  upon  those  days 
and  weeks  of  deceit,  there  had  grown  a 
distrust  of  himself — a  distrust  saf'.ly  at 
variance  with  his  usual  gallant  independ 
ence  of  speech  and  action.  Cosme  started 
early,  as  always  on  these  expeditions,  and 
Rupert  saw  him  depart  with  his  mental 
protest  unspoken.  What  had  Cosme  done, 
or  what  could  he  do,  Rupert's  guilty  con 
science  mocked,  that  was  as  bad  as  the 
thing  that  he  himself  had  achieved? 

As  it  happened,  Cosme  reached  the  vil 
lage  just  as  an  event  of  such  importance  to 
the  community  was  taking  place  that  the 
young  Mexican  was  sufficiently  entertained, 
during  the  few  hours  of  his  stay,  without 
having  recourse  to  any  projects  of  his  own. 

It  was  nearly  dusk  when  he  drove  into 
the  ranch  house  yard  on  his  return  next 
day.  As  on  the  previous  occasion,  Mr. 
Carrol  directed  him  to  fetch  his  purchases 
into  the  kitchen,  while  he  checked  them  off. 

Cosme,  with  difficulty  holding  back  his 
great  news,  waited  until  the  business  in 
hand  was  disposed  of.  When  the  last  arti 
cle  on  the  list  was  satisfactorily  accounted 
for,  his  employer  said: 

"  You've  done  everything  all  right, 
Cosme,  very  well,  indeed  !" — as,  indeed,  he 
had,  since  Cosme  was  by  no  means  lacking 
in  intelligence  and  adaptability  when  he 
chose  to  turn  either  to  account. 

"  Me,"  returned  Cosme,  beaming,  "  it 
was  mos'  won'erful  'at  I  make  'at  job  all 
right,  with  no  mistake  at  all,  same  like  yo' 
say,  senor,  because  I  was  full  of  excite'  in 
'at  town  yes'erday.  Almos'  after  the  things 
they  was  all  bought,  I  was  afraid,  me,  to 
camp  for  the  night  like  w'at  yo'  tole  me  for 
to  do,  'bout  a  mile  out  on  the  road  back  to 
the  ranch,  an'  wait,  like  Seiiora  Easton  "- 
with  a  respectful  inclination  of  his  head  in 
that  lady's  direction — "  say,  '  till  daylight 
doth  appear.'  " 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


57 


"  Very  dangerous,  I  should  say,  camp 
ing  on  the  Pines  Altos  road,  on  your  way 
home !"  commented  his  employer,  dryly. 
"  But  since  you  have  got  back  all  right, 
you'd  better  look  after  the  horses  now,  and 
then  come  in  and  get  your  supper." 

The  family  had  just  finished  the  evening 
meal  when  Cosme  drove  up,  so  that  all  the 
members  of  the  household  were  present,  to 
Cosme's  satisfaction,  as  he  gently  protested, 
in  reply  to  this  suggestion : 

"Si,  me?  I  was  full  of  hungry,  also 
the  horses,  but  I  would  explain  to  the  senor 
that  it  was  not  'at  I  wras  afraid  of  gettin' 
hurt  at  the  camp.  No,  it  was  the  excite'. 
I  was  full  of  excite'.  Pinos  Altos,  she  was 
also  full — all  of  her !"  Cosme,  who  had 
been  holding  his  peaked  straw  hat  in  one 
hand  since  his  entry  into  the  kitchen,  now 
waved  that  useful  article  of  wearing  ap 
parel  dramatically,  the  better  to  illustrate 
how  very  full  Pinos  Altos  was  of  the 
"  excite'  "  that  had  so  affected  him. 

Mr.  Carrol,  seeing  that  the  young  Mex 
ican  really  had  something  to  tell,  adjured 
him,  bluntly: 

"  Well,  what  was  the  matter  with  Pinos 
Altos?  Out  with  it!" 

"  The  thiefs,  senor — the  thiefs  w'at  have 
been  makin'  such  big  steals  of  horses,  and 
also  catties.  Xo  more  will  they  steal.  The 
sheriff  he  have  got  them  both.  He  have 
brought  them  to  Pinos  Altos  and  put  them 
into  the  strong  house  of  iron." 

"  W-h-e-w  !  That  is  news,  indeed  !  So 
the  sheriff  got  the  thieves,  or  some  of 
them.  Did  you  learn  who  the  men  were?" 

"  Si ;  one,  he  was  'at  Hardy  man — 
Senor  Ham  Hardy,  he  was.  The  other  he 
was  name  Billium — Senor  Billium." 

"Billium?"  Mr.  Carrol  repeated  the 
name  thoughtfully.  "  I  don't  recollect  ever 
hearing  that  name  in  this  part  of  the  coun 
try  before." 

Cosme,  always  polite,  hesitated.  "  Si ; 
there  is  a  possible  'at  I  have  made  mistake 
in  the  name,  me.  At  Pinos  Altos  always 
they  call  him  Bill.  Long  time  ago  my 


padre  tell  me  'at  Will,  w'en  he  was  a  front 
name,  he  stood  for  William,  and  so  I  think, 
me — 

In  spite  of  himself,  Mr.  Carrol  laughed. 
"  I  see.  You  carried  the  idea  out  when 
it  came  to  Bill.  Well,  have  they  recovered 
any  of  the  stolen  horses  ?" 

"  Si ;  also  the  sheriff  said  to  him — so  my 
hermano,  who  lives  at  Pinos  Altos,  tole 
me — and  it  was  of  a  gen'ral  voice  among 
the  people  'at  the  sheriff  had  tole  it  to 
them—" 

"Well,  well,  well!  Take  that  for 
granted !  Did  they  get  any  of  the  stolen 
stock  back?" 

"  They  tole  the  sheriff,  w'en  he  tole  them 
that  the  peoples  would  hang  them,  sure,  if 
they  didn't  own  up,  w'ere  they  had  taken 
Senor  Sanford's  horses  to,  in  Mexico,  and 
sole  them  to  a  man  w'at  keeps  horses  to 
go  fas'  on  a  racetrack.  'At  sheriff,  at  once 
he  said  he  would  go  down  to  'at  place  and 
bring  them  horses  back." 

"  I  don't  know  that  he  can.  The  law  in 
Mexico —  Mr.  Carrol  dropped  the  specu 
lation  with  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Did 
you  hear  anything  about  Snowflake?" 

"  Me,  I  hear  it  say — and  Senor  Billium 
and  Senor  Ham  Hardy  both  swear  it  hard 
at  the  sheriff — 'at  they  did  not  get  Snow- 
flake.  'At  sheriff  he  say  some  other  mem 
bers  of  the  gang  have  tooken  Snowflake." 

"  It's  rather  odd,  though,  that  she  should 
have  disappeared  on  the  same  night  that 
the  others  were  taken,  if  she  was  taken  by 
another  party." 

"  Si,  it  was  'at  w'at  the  sheriff  say,  too." 

"  I'm  glad  that  they've  got  the  men. 
Sanford  offered  a  big  reward  for  the  re 
covery  of  his  horses.  If  the  sheriff  suc 
ceeds  in  getting  them  back  the  reward  will 
go  to  him." 

Rupert,  sitting  silent  and  unnoticed  in 
his  corner,  felt  a  sick  loathing  of  himself 
at  the  words.  Nearly  a  month  ago  he  had 
known  who  it  was  that  had  stolen  the 
Sanford  racehorses.  If,  he  reflected,  he 
had  been  a  better  neighbor  and  less  of  a 


58 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


coward,  he  would  have  gone  to  Mr.  San- 
ford  and  told  him,  thus  saving  him,  as  well 
as  the  county,  several  hundred  dollars  of 
expense;  still,  his  accusing  conscience  ran 
on,  what  difference  could  it  make  how  he 
treated  his  neighbor,  or  what  sort  of  a  citi 
zen  he  was,  seeing  the  sort  of  son  and 
brother  that  he  had  turned  out  to  be? 

He  was  roused  from  his  tormenting  re 
flections  by  his  father's  voice  again  ad 
dressing  Cosme,  who  had  once  more  ven 
tured  to  hint  that  now  was  the  time  for  him 
(Cosme)  to  turn  in  and  assist  the  sheriff 
in  the  search  for  the  lost  Snowflake. 

"  No,  I  reckon  not,"  Mr.  Carrol  returned, 
decisively,  in  response  to  the  respectfully- 
worded  hint.  "  You  just  attend  to  your 
business — which  is  the  farm  work,  just  now 
— and  leave  the  sheriff  to  attend  to  his." 

"  'At  sheriff  he  have  to  wear  one  small 
window  on  his  eye,"  remarked  Cosme. 

"Wears  glasses.     Well,  what  of  that?" 

"  He  no  have  eye  'at  see  'way  off,  like 
mine." 

"  His  eyes  seem  to  serve  his  purpose 
pretty  well.  You  attend  to  your  work  in 
the  west  field.  You'll  find  plenty  of  em 
ployment  for  your  eyes  up  there." 

"  Si,  'at  was  a  good  place  to  see  from. 
I  use  my  eye  up  there,  me." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
COSME  TAKES  TO  STUDYING  THE  LANDSCAPE. 

THE   young   Mexican,    taking  his   em 
ployer's  advice  seriously,  applied  him 
self  from  that  time  on    to  his  double 
task  of  attending  the  farm  work  and  study 
ing  the  landscape  at  the  same  time. 

He  was  thus  engaged  on  the  very  same 
day  that  his  father  returned  home  from  his 
latest  trip  with  the  round-up  forces. 

Close  to  the  upper  edge  of  the  field  where 
Cosme  was  harrowing,  a  thicket  of  scrub 
oak  grew  like  a  low  green  wall.  Through 
a  slight  break  in  this  green  wall  Cosme 
could  catch  fleeting  glimpses  of  the 


northern  extremity  of  the  Tefoya  Mesa. 
For  the  most  part,  where  the  mesa  joined 
the  plains,  it  was  as  if  the  waves  of  a  low, 
advancing  ocean  had  suddenly  been  struck 
rigid  and  motionless.  Cosme  noticed  at 
length  that  at  one  point  the  rigid  wave  had 
been  transformed  into  a  low,  sheer  wall. 
Stopping  at  each  returning  round  to  swing 
his  team  into  the  furrow,  Cosme  took  oc 
casion  to  study  this  northern  slope,  in  which 
direction  lay  the  short  cut  to  the  7-H  Ranch. 

The  memory  of  his  bad  day's  work  at 
Pinos  Altos,  three  weeks  before,  weighed 
heavily  upon  him.  He  had  gambled  away 
the  money  that  his  employer  had  entrusted 
to  him,  and,  fearful  that  he  or  Rupert  might 
come  into  town  and  find  out  what  had  been 
done,  if  he  had  the  account  charged  to  Mr. 
Carrol,  he  had  compromised  matters  with 
himself  by  having  the  bill  charged  to  his 
own  father.  Valdez,  senior,  was  known 
to  be  good  pay,  and  the  grocer  made  no 
objection.  But  suppose  that  his  father 
should  chance  to  return  and  should  visit 
that  grocery  before  he  (Cosme)  could  save 
up  enough  out  of  his  wages  of  ten  dollars 
a  month,  to  settle  it  himself?  The  lad 
turned  cold  at  the  thought. 

If  he  could  but  find  the  missing  horse 
and  claim  the  promised  reward ! 

Cosme  had  swung  his  team  around  into 
the  furrow  for  the  twentieth  time,  and  was 
slowly  settling  down  to  the  next  long  plod 
around  the  field,  when,  suddenly,  a  tiny 
speck  of  white  lying  at  the  very  foot  of  the 
abrupt  break  in  the  mesa  wall,  attracted  his 
attention.  It  seemed  to  him  odd  that  he 
had  never  noticed  it  before,  for  it  was  a 
conspicuous  point  in  the  universal  waste 
of  gray.  Cosme  went  on  with  his  work  at 
last,  but  at  each  succeeding  turn  he  looked 
and  looked  again  to  make  sure  that  the 
speck  was  yet  there.  Finally,  as  his  eyes 
again  sought  the  white  spot,  he  saw  a  pair 
of  vultures  slowly  circling  and  circling 
above  it.  When  he  saw  the  vultures,  Cosme 
grinned  with  pure  enjoyment.  He  thought 
of  the  many  snubbings  that  he  had  had 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


59 


from  Rupert,  and,  above  all,  of  the  com 
plete  and  workmanlike  threshing  that  he 
had  received  at  Rupert's  hands,  not  so  long 
ago,  and  his  black  eyes  glittered. 

"  Aha  !  this  afternoon,  now,  I  make  some 
observation,  me,  on  'at  place  'at  look  like 
one  snowdrif,  w'en  there  is  not  any  snow 
somew'ere  else !" 

Down  at  the  ranch  house  Nora  was  hav 
ing  trouble  with  her  little  flock  of  poultry. 
After  a  fruitless  search  about  the  corrals 
and  barn,  she  went  into  the  house  to  tell 
her  grandmother  that  the  big  hen  turkey 
was  missing. 

"  Them  turkeys  are  enough  sight  more 
bother  than  they're  worth !"  Mrs.  Easton 
declared,  on  hearing  this.  "  They're  jest 
like  them  sand  fleas :  one  minute  the  ground 
Ml  be  covered  with  'em,  and  you  think  all 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  put  out  your  foot 
and  squawsh  'em,  but,  when  your  foot  gets 
there,  they're  gone!" 

"  Maybe  she's   sitting,"   Nora   suggested. 

"  I  wouldn't  wonder  a  mite;  and  if  she  is, 
she's  as  like  to  'a'  gone  down  to  Pinos  Altos 
or  the  Cimarron  to  do  it  as  to  'a'  stayed 
within  ten  miles  of  home." 

''Are  you  talking  of  that  hen  turkey?" 
asked  Mr.  Carrol,  from  his  seat  near  the 
window.  "  I  saw  her  skulking  around  in 
that  oak  thicket,  up  at  the  end  of  the  west 
field,  the  last  time  I  was  up  there.  I 
thought  then  that  she  was  probably  steal 
ing  a  nest." 

"  You  can  depend  on  it  that's  where 
you'll  find  her,"  said  Mrs.  Easton. 

"  I'll  go  right  up  and  see,"  Nora  replied, 
taking  up  the  broad-brimmed  straw  hat  that 
she  had  but  just  tossed  down,  and  starting 
off  in  the  direction  of  the  field.  She  was 
a  good  deal  surprised,  on  nearing  the  field, 
to  find  one  of  the  work  horses  tied  under 
a  tree,  close  to  the  oak  thicket,  the  harrow 
standing  idly  in  the  furrow,  and  Cosme, 
with  the  other  horse,  nowhere  in  sight. 
The  trampled  grass  under  the  tree  showed 
that  the  horse  had  been  there,  stamping, 


and  fighting  flies,  a  long  time.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  there  was  something  wrong 
about  such  a  state  of  affairs,  but  recalling 
that  her  father  had  the  utmost  faith  in 
Cosme,  she  decided  that  he  might  possibly 
have  been  called  away  somewhere  upon 
legitimate  business.  She  went  on,  and,  a 
moment  after,  was  lost  to  view  in  the  dense 
growth  of  scrub  oaks.  The  thicket  was  so 
dense,  in  fact,  that  she  presently  found  her 
self  obliged  to  crawl  on  hands  and  knees 
before  she  could  penetrate  its  depths.  Her 
perseverance  was  rewarded  when,  a  few 
yards  away,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
alert  head  and  watchful  eyes  of  the  turkey 
as  she  crouched  silently  on  her  nest.  See 
ing  that  the  troublesome  bird  was  likely 
to  be  as  safe  there  as  anywhere  else,  and 
would  certainly  resent  interference,  Nora 
had  just  decided  to  leave  her  alone,  and  to 
creep  out  as  she  had  come,  when  she  heard 
the  sound  of  footsteps  close  at  hand. 

Rupert  had  returned  from  the  range 
early  in  the  afternoon.  Dreading  any  acci 
dental  chance  that  might  leave  him  alone 
with  his  father,  and  so  give  the  latter  op 
portunity  to  ask  inconvenient  questions,  he 
thought  that  he  would  go  up  and  see  how 
Cosme  was  coming  on  with  the  harrowing. 

Like  Nora,  he  stopped  in  astonishment 
at  sight  of  the  tethered  horse  standing 
alone,  but,  unlike  her,  he  was  not  ready  to 
believe  that  any  lawful  errand  of  Cosme's 
could  account  for  the  situation;  standing 
close  to  the  thicket,  with  his  hand  on  the 
horse's  mane,  he  glanced  inquiringly  around 
just  at  the  instant  that  Cosme's  head  sud 
denly  appeared  ascending  from  a  little 
arroyo  that  led  out  on  to  the  plains,  out 
of  sight  from  the  house.  The  head  was 
followed  by  the  Mexican's  slim  little  body, 
and  the  body  was  mounted  on  the  missing 
work  horse.  Presently  horse  and  rider  had 
scrambled  out  of  the  gully  and  were  slowly 
approaching  the  spot  where  Rupert  awaited 
in  angry  impatience. 

"  This  is  a  nice  piece  of  business !"  be 
gan  Rupert,  pointing  to  the  reeking  horse, 


60 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


which  gave  every  indication  of  having  been 
mercilessly  ridden.  "  Look  at  that  horse ! 
Wet  with  foam  and  sweat,  and  he  a  plow 
horse !  Father  shall  hear  of  this,  now  I 
promise  you.  You'll  have  better  luck  than 
you  deserve  if  you  don't  get  fired  for  this  !" 

Cosme,  unabashed,  slid  from  the  horse's 
back  and  quietly  began  replacing  the  har 
ness.  Not  until  Rupert,  angered  still  more 
by  his  silence,  had  started  to  go  away,  did 
he  speak.  "  Wait,"  he  said,  deliberately. 
"  Me,  I  got  some  speak  to  tell  to  yo'." 

The  Mexican's  countenance,  as  he  faced 
Rupert,  wore  a  bluish  pallor,  strikingly  ap 
parent,  underlaid  as  it  was  by  his  tawny 
coloring.  But  it  was  not  fear  of  Rupert, 
or  of  anything  that  Rupert  might  say,  that 
caused  his  face  to  blanch  and  his  knees  to 
wobble.  Returning,  elated  and  triumphant 
from  his  clandestine  investigation  of  the 
mesa  cliff,  feeling  jubilantly  certain  of  a 
safe  and  speedy  settlement  of  the  account 
that  so  troubled  him,  Cosme  had  met  his 
Xemesis.  His  Nemesis  took  the  outward 
semblance  of  his  father,  Juan  Valdez,  and 
Juan  Valdez  had  been  able  to  convince  his 
son,  in  words  that  scorched  like  molten 
lava,  that  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is 
hard.  Valdez  had  been  out  in  search  of 
his  son,  and  the  latter  had  nearly  reached 
the  field  where  he  was  supposed,  by  his 
trusting  employer,  to  be  working,  when  he 
came  face  to  face  with  his  parent. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
WriiAT  COSME  FOUND. 

THE  interview  between  father  and  son 
was  not  unduly  prolonged.      Valdez, 
senior,  had,  it  is  true,  the  power  to 
keep   silence    in    two    languages — and    that 
was  a  thing  to  be  proud  of,  since  so  many 
people  of  so  many  races  find  it  impossible 
to    keep    their    thoughts    to    themselves    in 
one — but   he   did   not   exercise   his   gift   on 
Cosme.     When  the  latter,  with  his  father's 
stern  permission,  started  on  again,  it  was  at 


a  much  slower  pace  and  with  no  elation  in 
his  heart.  But,  as  his  horse  climbed  wear 
ily  up  out  of  the  arroyo  on  to  the  level 
ground,  the  sight  of  Rupert  standing  mo 
tionless  beside  the  work  horse  that  he, 
Cosme,  had  left  behind,  gave  the  resource 
ful  young  Mexican  an  idea.  It  was  plain 
that  Rupert  was  waiting  to  upbraid  him; 
very  well — he  would  settle  that  matter  by 
springing  on  him  a  new  and  worse  scheme 
for  getting  himself  out  of  a  new  and 
worse  difficulty. 

When  the  harness  was  properly  adjusted, 
and  Rupert  had  hesitated  expectantly  in 
answer  to  his  call,  Cosme  suddenly  turned 
his  back  on  the  horses  and  confronted 
Rupert.  He  extended  his  open  hand;  on 
the  palm  something  white  was  glistening. 

"  What  is  'at  ?"  he  demanded. 

Rupert  picked  up  the  glittering  trifle  and 
examined  it. 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  what  it  is,  and 
that  it's  mine.  How  did  it  get  into  your 
hands?  Don't  tell  me  any  lies  about  it,  for 
I'm  willing  to  thresh  you  again,  and  to  do 
a  good  job,  too,  if  I  think  you  need  it." 

The  glittering  object  was  a  silver  coin 
with  a  pin  soldered  on  to  one  side.  The 
date  of  its  coinage  was  that  of  the  year  of 
Rupert's  birth;  above  the  date  his  initials 
were  engraved.  Nora  had  a  coin  of  the 
same  value  with  the-  year  of  her  birth  en 
graved,  and,  moreover,  the  Mexican  silver 
smith  who  did  the  engraving  was  an  uncle 
of  Cosine's,  and  had  stopped  at  the  ranch 
house,  with  his  little  traveling  forge,  while 
doing  the  work. 

"  You  know  it's  mine,"  Rupert  repeated. 
"  I  didn't  even  know  I'd  lost  it — thought 
it  was  on  my  Sunday  coat.  Where  did  you 
find  it?" 

Cosine's  black  eyes  were  on  Rupert's  face 
as  he  answered:  "  I  fin'  it — 'at  pin— lyin'  in 
some  dirt,  one,  two  steps  from  a  dead 
horse."  Rupert  gasped.  The  objects  around 
him  seemed  to  undulate  and  waver  for  a 
moment ;  he  recovered  himself  quickly  to 
hear  Cosme's  voice  saying :  "  'At  horse — 


What  is  'at?"  Cosme  demanded. 


01 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


63 


w'ite,  she  was — never  goin'  run  fas'er  than 
the  win'  no  more.  All  the  time  I  was 
think' :  '  Poor  alba  Snowflake,  w'at  a  bad 
man  rode  off  the  cliff  and  break  at  the 
neck !'  Then  I  see  that  pin  lookin'  up  at 
me  like  one  eye  that  tell  the  truth,  'n'  I 
know.  I  know  how  Snowflake  was  come 
there.  I  been  use'  that  short  cut  to  the  7-H 
myself,  sometime." 

The  Mexican,  his  recital  concluded, 
waited  gravely.  For  a  minute  Rupert  could 
not  speak.  A  swift,  wild  wing,  cleaving 
the  upper  air,  cast  its  shadow  over  him; 
involuntarily  he  raised  his  eyes  to  watch 
the  bird's  flight,  wishing  that  he,  too,  had 
the  power  to  take  wing  and  fly  away  from 
this  network  of  deceit  and  trouble  that  he 
had  woven  about  himself.  Cosme's  eyes 
followed  his  with  a  dim  comprehension  of 
his  thought,  but  he  waited;  it  was  for 
Rupert  to  speak. 

"  Well,"  said  Rupert,  at  length,  "  what 
are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  Go  to  my 
father  and  tell  what  you  have  found,  of 
course.  Here,  you  can  take  this  pin  to 
show  him,  if  he  has  any  doubts  of  your 
story.  But  he  won't  have,"  he  added,  bit 
terly;  "he'll  recognize  it  by  its  ear  marks." 

"  Yo'  padre,"  observed  the  unmoved 
Cosme,  "  he  offa'  cincuenta  dolla'  for  'at 
horse — cincuenta  dolla' !  More  'n  she's 
wor'se — dead  horse  so;  but  he  no  say  she 
mus'  be  alive.  He  say  cincuenta  dolla', 
jest  so.  See?" 

"  Go  and  tell  him,  then,  you  Mexican 
dog!"  Rupert  burst  out  furiously,  "and 
get  your  money."  He  started  to  go  away, 
instantly  resolved  that,  despite  his  promise 
to  Nora,  he  would  leave  home,  never  to 
return,  and  would  leave  it  on  the  instant. 

But  Cosme's  voice  again  arrested  him. 
"  Hole  on,  Rupert !  I  got  some  more  words 
to  say.  One  word  is,  'at  Mexican  dog  jes' 
good's  'Merican  coward — that  w'at  I  think, 
me.  I  was  feel  sorrowful  w'en  I  fin'  'at 
Snowflake.  I  feel  sorrowful  for  you ;  I  no 
feel,  sorrowful  now,  but  I  no  goin'  to  tell  yo' 
padre — not  yet.  I  want  to  talk  at  you,"  he 


continued,  miserably.  "  I  have  some  trou 
bles  also,  too." 

"Well?"  urged  Rupert,  impatiently,  as 
Cosme  paused. 

"  Si ;  mi  padre  he  got  some  notion  not 
like  w'ite  notion.  He  believe  in  w'ip.  He 
think  I  do  some  wrong,  me.  I  was  goin' 
make  it  all  right.  I  no  kill  mos'  fines'  horse 
in  de  worl',  'n'  go  on  actin'  some  lie  to 
make  all  peoples  believe  'at  'at  horse  been 
stole.  No;  but  mi  padre" — Cosme's  teeth 
were  chattering  as  the  vision  of  his  padre 
in  his  savage  wrath,  for  Valdez'  anger  had 
lost  none  of  its  intensity  by  waiting,  rose 
vividly  to  his  remembrance;  if  Rupert  was 
a  moral  coward  he  was  undeniably  a  phys 
ical  one,  and  the  luster  of  his  black  eyes 
was  dimmed  by  smarting  tears  that  he 
dashed  roughly  aside  as  he  concluded :  "  Me 
padre  goin'  w'ip  me  with  cactus  branch. 
Same  like  los  Penitentes.  To-night  he  say 
for  me  to  come  at  the  ole  cabin  w'ere  we 
was  use'  to  live;  down  yon'" — he  waved 
his  hand  toward  the  former  abode  of  the 
Valdez  family,  a  squalid  hut,  nestling 
against  the  barren  hillside,  a  mile  away; 
"  come  at  the  edge  of  night,  mi  padre  say. 
He  will  be  at  there.  Say  he  goin'  break 
me  of  some  bad  habit.  I  say  at  him  I  was 
too  ole  to  w'ip.  Not  this  time,  he  say ;  say 
he  goin'  do  me  good  with  some  scar." 

"  He's  an  old  scoundrel !"  observed 
Rupert,  candidly.  "What  did  you  do?" 

"  Not  anything  'at  was  no  matter;  I  was 
goin'  make  it  all  right." 

Rupert  did  not  insist  upon  a  more  ex 
plicit  answer.  The  result  of  his  own  dis 
obedience  had  been  so  tragic  that  it  seemed 
improbable  that  the  Mexican  could  have 
done  anything  worth  mentioning  beside  it. 
Yet  Cosme's  offense  had  been,  in  intention, 
much  worse  than  his.  Both  had  weakly 
yielded  to  temptation,  and  Rupert's  remorse 
was  none  the  less  bitter  because  the  tempta 
tion  that  had  conquered  him  was  not  base, 
as  Cosme's  had  been. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  it  if  he  has 
taken  a  notion  to  thresh  you,"  Rupert  said 


64 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


at  last,  his  interest  in  Cosme's  affliction 
eclipsed  by  the  recollection  of  his  own 
greater  troubles. 

Cosme  lifted  his  ragged  straw  hat  and 
passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  on  which 
the  perspiration  stood  in  heavy  drops.  "  I 
goin'  git  out  of  it,"  he  said. 

"How?" 

"  I  goin'  git  someone  to  go  at  'at  cabin 
in  my  place." 

"  You're  acquainted  with  some  bigger 
fool  than  I  am,  then,  if  you  know  of  any 
one  you  can  get." 

"  No,  no  fool ;  muchos  troubles.  I  not 
goin'  ask  yo'  padre  for  'at  rewar' — not  goin' 
say  'at  snowdrif  was  a  Snowflake.  No. 
You  was  a-goin'  at  'at  cabin  in  my  place." 

"  I  go  in  your  place  !"  cried  Rupert.  "  I 
think  I  see  myself!  Are  you  crazy?" 

"  No;  no  crezee.  See,  it  easy.  We  both 
same  shape,  both  so  high.  Yo'  has  on  my 
clo'es — all  dark  in  cabin.  Mi  padre  still 
man,  no  speak — jes'  w'ip,  w'ip !  All  he 
say,  '  Tek  off  yo'  coat!"  Then  he  bring 
the  cactus  branch  down  on  yo'  shoulcla'— 
swish,  swish!"  Cosme  enacted  the  imag 
inary  interview  with  a  spirit  and  accuracy 
born  of  experience.  "  Wen  mi  padre  t'ink 
yo'  had  'nuff,"  he  continued,  "  he  jes'  go 
off  an'  leave  yo'  'lone.  I  know.  Then  I 
goin'  help  yo'  home.  I  goin'  be  mighty 
good  at  yo',  then,"  he  added,  commiserat- 
ingly. 

"  Well,  you  have  hatched  up  a  beautiful 
scheme,"  said  Rupert,  who  had  been  study 
ing  the  situation  while  Cosme  talked.  "  I 
suppose  you  know  that  he'll  kill  me  if  he 
finds  me  out,  even  if  he  don't  do  it  thinking 
that  he's  finishing  you  off." 

"  He  goin'  stop  short  off  of  killin',"  re 
turned  Cosme,  doggedly.  "  He  no  fin'  yo' 
out ;  yo'  keep  still,  'at  all ;  blood  no  tell. 
W'ite  blood  make  same  kin'  of  stain  like 
Mexican — both  red.  Yo'  goin'  do  it?" 

He  looked  into  Rupert's  face;  the  eyes 
of  both  boys  glared  at  each  other  for  a 
moment,  then  Rupert's  gaze  dropped. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I'm  going  to  do  it." 


He  was  answering  his  own  thoughts  rather 
than  Cosme's  words,  but  he  knew  very 
well  that  the  latter  understood  him  to 
promise  to  become  his  substitute  for  a 
flogging. 

He  walked  away,  reflecting  that  by  the 
time  Cosme  discovered  that  he  had  been 
deceived,  and  told  his  father  what  he 
knew,  he  himself  would  be  so  far  away 
that  it  could  not  much  matter  what  his 
father  said  or  did.  His  heart  was  filled 
with  bitter  self-contempt,  but  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  tell  the  truth,  as  he  longed 
to  do;  still  less  could  he  endure  that  his 
father  should  hear  it  from  Cosme. 

"It'll  all  come  out  some  time;  I  wonder 
that  no  one  has  found  poor  Snowflake  be 
fore  now,"  he  thought,  miserably.  "  I'm 
not  afraid  that  Cosme — confound  him  ! — 
will  tell,  as  long  as  he  thinks  I've  saved 
him  a  whipping.  He'll  be  so  afraid  of  my 
going  back  on  him  and  telling  old  Valdez 
the  truth  that  he'll  never  open  his  mouth 
about  it,  but  I  can't  stay  and  bear  it  a 
minute  longer.  I  wish,  for  poor  Nora's 
sake,  that  I  had  honor  enough  about  me 
to  face  the  truth.  She'd  do  it  if  she  was 
in  my  place.  And  what  is  there  to  face? 
Just  father's  anger.  But — how  angry  he 
can  be!  No,  I'll  go  away.  I  promised 
Nora  that  I  wouldn't,  but  I  will.  I've  al 
ready  proved  myself  a  coward;  now  I'll  add 
liar  to  that,  and  maybe  she  won't  think 
it  worth  while  to  fret  after  me  when  I'm 
gone." 

So  communing  with  himself,  ashamed, 
repentant,  remorseful,  yet  still  lacking  the 
courage  to  take  the  course  that  he  knew 
to  be  right,  he  approached  the  house,  intent 
on  slipping  quietly  by  it  into  the  highroad. 
There  was  a  strange  horse  tethered  to  the 
hitching-post  in  front  of  the  house,  and, 
reflecting  that  the  visitor,  whoever  he 
might  be,  would  soon  be  going,  and  might 
overtake  him  if  he  were  on  the  road, 
Rupert  stepped  aside  and  sat  down  in  the 
lee  of  a  strawstack  to  await  his  departure. 
As  he  sat  with  his  elbows  propped  on  his 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


65 


knees  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  highway 
that  he  meant  soon  to  traverse,  there 
seemed  to  him  a  desolate  suggestiveness  in 
the  way  in  which  the  road  went  on  and 
on,  growing  darker  as  the  familiar  sur 
roundings  receded,  until,  at  last,  all  was 
lost  to  view  in  a  heavy  pall  of  darkness, 
and  one  could  but  guess  at  what  lay  be 
yond.  So  had  he  gone  on  in  wrongdoing 
until  now.  What  lay  beyond  that  verge 
to  which  the  lights,  the  love  of  home,  could 
not  penetrate? 

The  visitor,  a  neighbor,  who  had  called 
simply  to  ask  about  the  injured  foot  and 
to  inquire  if  there  was  any  news  of  the 
stolen  horse,  came  out,  mounted  his  horse, 
and  rode  away.  Still  Rupert,  lost  in 
gloomy  reverie,  did  not  stir. 

When  Rupert  and  Cosme,  standing  so 
close  to  the  oak  scrub  that,  lying  hidden  in 
its  depths,  she  could  not  avoid  hearing 
every  word  of  their  conversation,  began 
talking,  Nora  started  to  wriggle  out  of  her 
place  of  concealment.  After  hearing  a 
sentence  or  two,  however,  she  lay  per 
fectly  quiet,  listening. 

When  the  angry  interview  was  over,  she 
still  crouched  silently  in  her  place  until 
Rupert  was  out  of  sight.  A  hasty  glance 
in  his  direction  assured  her  that  Cosme 
was  once  more  plodding  along  beside  his 
harrow,  to  all  appearances  a  perfectly 
guileless  Mexican;  then  Nora  crept  out — 
followed  by  the  derisive  chatter  of  the  hen 
turkey,  who  felt  herself  mistress  of  the 
situation — dropped  quietly  into  the  gully 
up  which  Cosme  had  so  recently  ridden, 
and  so  made  her  way  home,  unobserved 
by  either  of  the  boys. 

Nora  did  not  go  into  the  house;  instead 
she  began  an  anxious,  breathless  search 
about  the  premises,  interrupted  only  by  an 
occasional  pause  to  scan  the  highway,  down 
which  she  feared  to  see  a  boyish  figure 
striding.  Knowing  Rupert  as  she  did,  she 
knew,  to  an  unerring  certainty,  that  he 
would  either  immediately  confess  the  part 


that  he  had  taken  in  the  mare's  disappear 
ance,  or  else,  in  spite  of  his  promise  to 
the  contrary,  he  would  leave  home,  bent 
on  never  returning.  Never  might  have 
seemed  a  long  date  to  set  for  the  offense 
'that  he  had  committed,  but  Rupert's  sister 
knew  something  of  the  matchless  reserves 
of  obstinacy  in  her  dreamy  brother's  char 
acter.  Having  assured  herself  that  he  had 
not  entered  the  house,  she  continued  the 
search,  oppressed  with  a  terrible  feeling 
that  perhaps  his  whole  future  depended 
upon  her  now  doing  the  right  thing  in  the 
right  way.  Not  repulsing  him,  no,  no ! 
when  he  so  needed  support;  not  upbraiding 
him;  not  upholding  him  in  his  wrongdoing, 
and  so  helping  to  blunt  his  moral  suscep 
tibility;  not  condoning  his  cowardice — for 
he  had  been  cowardly — but  making  him 
feel,  through  and  above  all,  that  she  loved 
him,  that  she  was  not  acting  as  his  judge, 
that  she  would  die  for  him  and  make  no 
sign,  if  need  be.  Poor  Nora  hurried  back 
and  forth,  with  all  these  thoughts,  not 
formulated,  but  in  a  confused,  tormenting 
jumble,  spurring  her  on.  More  than  that, 
even  before  the  hen  turkey's  derisive  chat 
ter  had  followed  her  quiet  retreat  from  the 
oak  thicket  she  had  thought  of  a  plan  for 
keeping  Cosme  from  claiming  the  fifty- 
dollar  reward,  and,  at  the  same  time,  shield 
ing  Rupert  himself  until,  of  his  own  ac 
cord,  he  should  be  ready  to  speak  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
NORA  CARRIES  OUT  HER  PLAN. 

CONTINUING  her  search  for  Rupert, 
Nora  at  length  went  out  to  the  straw- 
stacks  that,  like  so  many  golden  wig 
wams,  crowded  close  up  against  the  corral 
walls.     Crouched  under  one  of   these,   his 
face   hidden   in  his   hands,   she   found   her 
brother. 

Going  quietly  to  his  side,  she  softly  laid 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  She  could 
scarcely  restrain  the  cry  of  dismay  that 


66 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


rose  to  her  lips  as  she  saw  the  haggard 
wretchedness  of  the  face  that  was  raised 
to  meet  her  own.  If  she  had  ever  for  a 
moment  wavered,  as  she  had  not,  in  her 
determination  to  do  all  in  her  power  to 
help  her  brother  at  this  crisis  in  his  life, 
the  expression  on  his  face  then  would 
have  rebuked  her. 

Was  not  she,  also,  her  brother's  keeper? 
That  did  not  mean,  according  to  her  under 
standing  of  it,  that  she  was  to  try  to  preach 
to  him.  What  boy  in  his  senses  would 
not  have  resented  that?  And  she  younger 
than  himself,  too. 

No,  the  real  meaning  of  the  words  was 
that  she  was  to  walk  beside  him,  to  walk 
silently  and  without  complaint,  into  the  val 
ley  of  humiliation.  She  returned,  steadily, 
Rupert's  inquiring  gaze. 

"  Rupert,"  she  said,  quietly,  "  I  didn't 
ask  you  any  questions  when — when  some 
thing  happened,  not  long  ago.  But — you 
made  me  a  promise.  Sometimes — things 
have  come  up  that  make  me  almost  afraid 
that  you  don't — don't  intend  to  keep  it." 

"  You  know  already  that  I  am  a  coward, 
and  now  you  are  beginning  to  understand 
that  I  am  also  a  liar,"  returned  Rupert, 
with  resolute  hardihood.  "  You  are  quite 
right,  if  you  refer  to  my  promise  to  you  not 
to  leave  here.  I  intend  to  break  that  prom 
ise.  What  put  it  so  aptly  into  your  head 
that  I  do?  You  see  you're  getting  down 
to  the  bottom  of  my  admirable  character — 
or,  I  should  say,  the  dregs." 

Nora,  dreading  to  let  him  know  that  she 
had  overheard  the  interview  between  him 
self  and  Cosme,  parried  a  little. 

"  It  isn't  very  comfortable  at  home,  just 
now,"  she  said.  Yet 'she  knew  that  she 
must  tell  him  what  she  had  heard,  if  he 
could  not  be  induced  otherwise  to  renew 
his  promise. 

"  It's  a  good  time  to  leave  it,  then,  if 
it  isn't  comfortable,  especially  as  I  happen 
to  be  the  one  who  makes  it  uncomfortable," 
Rupert  said,  again  hiding  his  face  in  his 
hands. 


Nora  stood  beside  him  for  a  silent  mo 
ment,  wondering  anxiously  what  course  she 
had  better  take,  then  she  said  softly, 
"  But  you  won't  go  away,  will  you,  Ru 
pert?" 

"  Yes,"  returned  Rupert,  looking  up  sud 
denly,  "  yes,  I  will.  You  may  say  that  I've 
broken  my  promise  to  you.  That's  all 
right — I've  done  a  number  of  things ;  one 
more  or  less  don't  matter.  You'll  forget 
about  it — and  me — when  I'm  gone." 

Nora  quivered,  but  made  no  direct  re 
ply  to  this  speech.  After  a  momentary 
struggle  she  said,  "  I  didn't  mean  it, 
Rupert — it  was  an  accident — but  I  was  up 
in  the  oak  patch,  and — I  heard  what  Cosme 
said  to  you  this  afternoon." 

Rupert  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  excla 
mation  of  surprise  and  anger,  but  he  pres 
ently  resumed  his  seat.  "  After  all,  it  don't 
matter,"  he  said,  doggedly.  "  You  knew 
I  had  taken  the  horse,  and  suspected,  of 
course,  that  I  had  killed  her.  I  did.  That's 
all  there  is  to  it." 

"  Unless,"  Nora  suggested,  "  you  should 
conclude  to  tell  father." 

"  Which  I  shall  not.  Set  your  mind  at 
rest  on  that  score." 

"  Surely,  you  will  not  let  Cosme's  fa 
ther— 

"  No,"  returned  Rupert,  with  a  glance 
down  the  darkening  road,  "  no,  I  will  not 
do  that." 

"  Then  will  you  promise  me  one  thing, 
Rupert — just  one  thing?  Will  you?" 

"  How  can  I  tell  until  I  know  what  it  is? 
And  what  are  my  promises  good  for,  any 
way?"  answered  the  boy,  miserably. 

"  Rupert,  I  never  knew  you  to  tell  a  lie, 
or  to  break  a  promise." 

"Until  this  business  came  up;  put  that 
in  and  you'll  have  it  right.  I  seem  to  my 
self  to  have  been  the  father  of  lies,  lately. 
I  seem  to  be  somebody  else,  all  at  once; 
maybe  it's  a  kind  of  hypnotism,"  he  con 
tinued,  desperately.  "  I  don't  lose  myself 
in  day  dreams  any  more,  for  one  thing,  and 
I  haven't  touched  my  violin  since.  There 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


67 


isn't  any  music  in  me  now.  I'm  more  like 
one  of  those  devil  fish  that  we  read  of. 
I'm  full  of  a  blackness  that  oozes  out  and 
obscures  all  the  good  in  me — if  there  ever 
was  any." 

"  It's  all  good,  and  the  blackness  will 
pass  Only  promise  me  that  you  will  not 
leave  home  to-night,  Rupert." 

Rupert  looked  at  her  speculatively. 
"  Why  should  I  promise  that,  Nora  ?  I 
might  just  as  well  walk  into  a  den  of  raging 
lions  and  be  done  with  it.  If  you  heard 
what  Cosme  said,  you  know  very  well  that 
he'll  tell  the  whole  story  to  father  and  come 
on  him  for  the  fifty  dollars.  Besides,  if 
I  go  away  it'll  cost  father  fifty  dollars,  in 
addition  to  the  three  hundred  that  I've  al 
ready  lost  him.  I  understand  all  that,  and 
I'm  going.  There's  some  consolation  in 
knowing  that  Cosme  will  get  the  whipping 
he  deserves." 

"  But,  wait — wait,  Rupert !  I  have  a  plan. 
If  Cosme  does  not  tell — if  everything  goes 
on  as  usual — will  you  stay,  then,  Rupert?" 

"  I  don't  see  how  Cosme's  mouth  is  to 
be  shut,  unless  I  go  to  the  cabin  in  his 
place,"  objected  Rupert,  a  faint  color  ting 
ing  his  cheek.  It  seemed  to  him  that  shame 
upon  shame  was  piling  upon  him.  Was 
there  no  spark  of  manhood  in  him,  that  he 
could  stoop  to  let  honest  little  Nora  con 
coct  schemes  for  saving  him  from  the  pun 
ishment  that  he  deserved,  he  felt,  more 
than  Cosme  did — Cosme  who  was  a  Mex 
ican.  "  I'll  promise  for  to-night,"  he  said, 
abruptly.  "  I  will  not  go  to  the  cabin,  and  I 
don't  think  wild  horses  could  drag  me  be 
fore  father,  but — I  will  not  go  away  yet." 

"  Father  need  not  know  until  you  are 
ready  to  tell  him,"  Nora  repeated  again. 
"  You'll  tell  him  yourself,  some  day.  Do 
not  worry  about  Cosme.  I  have  a  plan." 

She  gave  no  inkling  as  to  what  the  plan 
was,  and  Rupert,  his  senses  dulled  by  mis 
ery,  had  not  the  curiosity  to  ask. 

Juan  Valdez  had  not  been  obliged  to 
nurse  his  wrath  against  his  son  to  keep  it 


warm.  It  was  still  burning  hot  as  he  ap 
proached  the  deserted  cabin  on  the  hillside, 
where,  as  he  supposed,  Cosme  awaited  him. 
It  was  almost  dark  without  the  cabin,  and 
so  dark  within  that,  as  Valdez  reached  the 
door  and  shoved  it  open,  he  could,  at  first, 
distinguish  nothing  inside.  He  stood  upon 
the  threshold  for  a  full  minute,  a  sinister- 
looking  figure,  peering  into  the  gloom.  He 
was  clad  in  the  rough  dress  of  the  frontiers 
man,  and  he  carried  in  his  right  hand  a 
long,  lithe  branch  of  green  cane  cactus, 
armed  with  its  innumerable  sharp  needle 
points,  each  from  a  quarter  to  a  half  inch 
in  length.  His  eyes  becoming  accustomed 
to  the  darkness,  he  at  length  descried  an 
other  pair  of  eyes  shining  back  at  him 
through  the  gloom,  and  the  savage  fury  that 
had  begun  to  well  up  in  him  at  the  thought 
that  his  son  had  failed  him,  abated  a  trifle, 
but  it  was  with  no  less  sternness  that  he 
gave  his  order: 

"  Come  out  here  an'  tek  off  yo'  coat, 
Cosme;  yo'  goin'  need  it  for  pillow  w'en  I 
gits  t'rough  with  yo'  this  time !" 

"  Mr.  Valdez — if  you  please,  wait.  I — I — 
want  to  talk  with  you,"  responded  a  trem 
bling  voice. 

Valdez  nearly  fell  over  backward  as,  out 
from  the  shadowy  corner  into  the  dim  light 
that  came  in  at  the  open  doorway,  stepped, 
not  Cosme,  but  Eleanor  Carrol ! 

Valdez  knew  Nora  very  well,  and,  on 
general  principles,  approved  of  her,  but  her 
presence  at  this  juncture,  apparently  in 
Cosme's  stead,  seemed  to  him  little  less  than 
an  outrage.  He  ground  his  teeth  in  rage, 
and  the  cactus  branch  in  his  hand  quivered 
as  Nora,  her  voice  strained  and  harsh  with 
the  sick  terror  that  shook  her  from  head 
to  foot,  but  none  the  less  resolute  to  accom 
plish  her  purpose,  repeated :  "  I  want  to 
talk  to  you,  Mr.  Valdez." 

"  Maybe  dis  was  w'at  yo'  calls  one  of 
dem  new  kin'  o'  'Merican  jokes,  hey?"  de 
manded  Valdez,  fiercely,  but  prudently 
dropping  the  cactus  branch,  lest  he  should 
be  tempted  to  use  it. 


68 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


"  Oh,  no,  no !  How  could  I  try  to  make 
a  joke  of  such  a  thing  as  this?"  cried  Nora, 
eagerly.  "  But,"  she  went  on,  venturing 
a  step  nearer  the  angry  father  and  laying 
a  timid  hand  appealingly  on  his  arm,  "  I 
want  you,  if  you  please,  to  let  Cosme  go — 
not  to  punish  him  this  time." 

Valdez'  gray  mustache  began  to  bristle, 
a  sure  indication  of  rising  temper;  his 
anger,  however,  was  not  directed  against 
Nora.  "  He  make  a  complain'  at  yo',  dat 
Cosme;  he  tell  yo'  come  at  me  an'  try  for 
make  me  no  w'ip?"  he  asked,  stooping  to 
regain  the  cactus  branch. 

"  No,  no,  indeed,  he  did  not,  Mr. 
Valdez.  No  one  asked  me  to  come ;  no  one 
knows  that  I  am  here.  I  came  of  my  own 
accord." 

"  Yo'  was  a  brave  senorita,"  Valdez  ad 
mitted,  with  a  kind  of  reluctant  admiration, 
and  immediately  added :  "  How  yo'  know 
Cosme  goin'  git  w'ipped?" 

"  I — I — came  to  hear  of  it  in  a  way — 
a  strange  way,  Mr.  Valdez,  but  it  was  not 
Cosme's  fault  that  I  heard.  He  does  not 
even  know  that  I  know  of  it,  and — if  you 
will  please  believe  me,  and  not  ask  me  how 
I  heard — " 

"  Oh,  me,  I  was  believe  all  w'at  yo' 
says.  Yo'  is  one  dem  kin'  w'at  spick 
straight,"  Valdez  acknowledged.  "  I  no 
ask  'bout  dat  some  more,  but  yo'  tell  me 
w'at  for  yo'  no  want  Cosme  w'ipped?" 

In  her  anxiety  to  shield  Rupert,  Nora 
"had  completely  overlooked  the  fact  that 
Valdez,  senior,  would  certainly  be  sur 
prised,  not  to  say  astonished,  at  the  inter 
est  that  she  was  suddenly  displaying  in  his 
son,  yet  she  felt  his  question  to  be  so  rea 
sonable  that  she  must  give  an  answer. 

"  I — it  seems  to  me  such  a  cruel  way  of 
whipping,  and  he  is  such  a  big  boy,"  she 
stammered. 

"  W'ippin'  goin'  hurt  small  boy,  same's 
big,"  Valdez  assured  her,  "  an'  Cosme  he 
have  to  have  a  w'ippin'  dat  was  cruel  to 
make  him  rememb'  some  t'ings." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  right,"  Nora  persisted, 


sticking  to  the  only  reason  that  she  felt 
free  to  offer.  "  There  ought  to  be  other 
ways." 

"  No  odder  ways  good  for  Cosme,"  de 
clared  Cosme's  father,  shaking  his  head, 
gloomily.  "  W'ip  he  mus'  be." 

He  was  now  sure  that  he  understood 
the  real  cause  of  Nora's  solicitude  in 
Cosme's  behalf.  As  far  as  his  experience 
went,  all  of  the  white  people — Protestants 
and  Catholics  alike — were  strongly  opposed 
to  the  rites  and  the  merciless  flagellations 
practiced  by  the  Order  of  Penitentes,  to 
which  he  belonged,  and  into  which  he  fully 
intended  to  induct  Cosme.  He  believed  that 
the  tender-hearted  white  girl  was  begging 
off  for  Cosme,  not  only  on  the  ground  of 
humanity,  but  from  religious  convictions 
also.  He  was  so  sure  of  this  that  he  at 
once  accepted  it  as  an  idea  to  be  combated. 
"  Cosme  he  ain'  like  w'ite  folks,"  he  said, 
persuasively.  "  W'ite  folks  dey  have  dey 
kin'  o'  'ligion  w'at  dey  gits  t'rough  de 
head;  Cosme  he  gits  his  t'rough  de  hide, 
si." 

"  Please  don't  whip  him  !"  Nora  implored, 
unable,  in  her  distress,  to  follow  this  line 
of  reasoning. 

"  Si,  I  got  Cosme's  soul  on  my  han'  to  be 
saved.  I  goin'  lick  him  good.  W'at  for 
he  no  come  to-night,  w'en  I  tell  him?"  he 
added,  suspiciously. 

"  He  was  led  to  believe  that  you  would 
not  need  him,"  returned  Nora,  evasively. 
And  she  went  on  quickly,  with  seeming 
irrelevance,  "  You  remember  my  Jersey 
heifer,  Mr.  Valdez?" 

"Si;  w'at  for  I  forgit  her?  She  only 
Jersey  on  range." 

"  Yes,  and  she's  mine,  Mr.  Valdez — all 
mine." 

"  Si,  dat  I  know,  me.  I  works  for  dat 
outfit  w'at  lef  her  with  yo'.  I  could  'a' 
save'  her,  too,  all  same  like  yo',"  he  added, 
enviously.  He  had  always  begrudged  Car 
rol's  daughter  the  possession  of  the  only 
Jersey  on  the  range. 

"  Very  well ;  then  you  know  that  I  can  do 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


69 


what  I  like  with  her,  and  if — if — you  will 
please  let  Cosme  off,  I  will  give  her  to  you, 
Mr.  Valdez." 

"  S'posin'  me,  I  say  si,  I  do  it.  Wat, 
den,  become  of  Cosme's  soul?"  inquired 
Valdez,  visibly  wavering,  however,  in  his 
determination  to  insure  Cosme's  salvation. 

"  Perhaps  Cosme  will  be  a  better  boy 
after  this ;  perhaps  he  will — "  began  Nora, 
hopefully. 

But  Valdez  interrupted  her.  If  he  ac 
cepted  the  bribe,  it  seemed,  even  to  his  flex 
ible  conscience,  that  it  was  no  more  than 
fair  to  warn  the  girl  of  the  futility  of  any 
gentle  means  with  Cosme.  "  Dat's  a  nice 
heifer,  dat  Jersey.  I  goin'  let  Cosme  off 
dis  time,  if  yo'  say  so,"  he  began,  "  but 
yo'  can't  'pend  on  nuttin'  w'at  'at  Cosme 
say  at  yo'.  Some  Mexican  dey  learn  w'ite 
folks  'ligion  an'  keep  it  up  good.  Dey  got 
better  min's  dan  w'at  Cosme  has.  Cosme 
he  young,  an'  besides  dat,  he  fool,  too — 
can't  'pend  on  boy  like  him.  Were  yo'  say 
dat  heifer  was  at?" 

Nora  told  him,  and,  soon  after,  they 
parted  on  much  better  terms  than  had 
seemed  at  all  probable  at  the  beginning  of 
the  interview.  Shielded  by  the  thickening 
dusk,  they  were  just  in  time  to  escape  the 
observation  of  Cosme,  who  was  making  a 
stealthy  approach  to  the  cabin  from  the 
rear. 

The  boy  \vas  intent  on  carrying  out  his 
benevolent  purpose  of  being  "  very  good  at " 
Rupert,  when  his  father  should  have  fin 
ished  with  him.  Reaching  the  cabin,  he 
stole  noiselessly  up  to  one  of  the  windows, 
underneath  which  he  crouched,  listening 
anxiously.  Assured  at  last  that  his  father 
was  not  within,  he  mustered  courage  to  go 
to  the  door,  which  he  cautiously  shoved 
open;  still  no  sound.  He  stood  on  the 
threshold,  as  his  father  had  done,  peering 
into  the  darkness,  for,  by  this  time,  it  was 
entirely  dark  within  the  cabin,  until  the 
silence  began  to  frighten  him.  "Rup't!" 
he  whispered  softly.  "  Rup't,  w'ere  yo'  at?" 

A  shuddering  terror,  lest  his  father  had 


not  this  time  stopped  "  short  off  of  killin'," 
held  him  motionless  for  an  instant.  Then 
he  told  himself  doggedly :  "  Me,  I  got  to 
know."  He  advanced  into  the  room  with 
cautious  tread,  feeling  at  each  alternate 
step  with  his  foot  before  he  ventured  to 
set  it  down,  lest  it  should  be  placed  upon 
a  recumbent  body,  until,  in  the  center  of 
the  room,  he  stopped,  drew  a  match  from 
his  pocket,  and  lit  it.  The  tiny  flame,  held 
aloft,  revealed  a  room  empty  of  human 
occupants,  but  in  the  interval  before  it 
went  out,  it  revealed  something  else  that, 
to  the  trained  eye  of  the  Mexican  boy,  told 
much.  On  the  floor  beside  him  he  had 
seen  a  cactus  branch.  Striking  another 
match,  he  applied  it  to  one  of  the  splintered 
bits  of  dry  pine  still  remaining  in  the  fire 
place,  and,  with  this  torch  in  hand,  again 
examined  the  cactus  branch,  which  he  ap 
proached  with  respectful  caution,  as  if 
apprehensive  that  it  might,  through  some 
demoniac  agency,  spring  up  and  attack  him 
of  its  own  accord.  Nothing  of  the  sort 
occurring,  he  ventured  to  turn  it  over  with 
the  toe  of  his  boot.  "  Not  been  use'  hard — 
not  'tall,"  was  his  sage  conclusion.  "  Mi 
padre  he  goin'  be  'shamed  to  w'ip  hard,  w'en 
he  see  how  good  I  was  come  at  the  cabin." 
It  was  an  unconscious  tribute  to  his  father's 
silent  ways  that  he  had  absolutely  no  fear 
that  Valdez  had  discovered  the  identity  of 
his  victim.  His  father  would  ask  no  ques 
tions,  and  Rupert,  Cosme  knew  in  the 
depths  of  his  treacherous  soul,  had  enough 
heroism,  when  put  to  the  test,  to  withstand 
any  torture  and  make  no  outcry.  He  put 
out  the  torch,  and,  closing  the  door  again, 
made  his  way  back  to  the  Carrol  ranch, 
well  pleased  with  the  outcome  of  his 
scheme,  although,  certainly,  it  was  hard  to 
be  obliged  to  give  up  the  "  rewar'." 


70 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 
"  THE  LAND  OF  DREADFUL  DREAMS." 

THE  Carrol  family  were  wont  to  pass 
their  evenings  together  after  the  early 
supper  was  over,  and  Cosme,  who  al 
ways  sought  his  bed  in  the  kitchen  attic 
at  an  early  hour,  sometimes  sat  among 
them,  modestly  in  the  background  and  list 
ening  respectfully  to  whatever  chanced  to 
be  said.  It  was  in  this  way  that  the  at 
tentive  Mexican  had  stored  his  mind  with 
the  wise  sayings  of  "  Seriora  Easton." 

Rupert,  after  he  had  again  promised  his 
sister  that  he  would  not  leave  until  she  had 
had  an  opportunity  to  try  her  plan — 
whatever  it  was — passed  an  indescribably 
wretched  evening.  He  felt  that  Nora's 
plan,  like  everything  else,  was  bound  to  be 
a  failure,  and  in  his  heart  there  sprang  up 
a  feeling  of  resentment  against  his  sister 
for  having  again  induced  him  to  remain. 
It  would  have  been  so  much  better,  he  told 
himself,  to  leave — to  leave  as  fast  and  far 
as  time  and  opportunity  would  take  him. 
Cosme,  sitting  blinking  beside  the  kitchen 
stove,  was  only  waiting,  of  course,  for  a 
chance  to  tell  his  father  of  the  discovery 
that  he  had  made  that  afternoon.  Rupert 
wished  that  he  had  the  courage  to  forestall 
the  disclosure  and  the  explosion  that  was 
bound  to  follow  by  telling  of  it  himself,  but 
he  could  not  at  the  moment  bring  him 
self  to  do  it. 

Still  the  minutes  slipped  away.  Bed 
time  came,  and  Cosme  yet  crouched  in  his 
accustomed  corner,  his  black  eyes  glinting 
on  all  with  amiable  impartiality,  although 
an  interested  observer  might  have  noticed 
that  they  shifted  quickly  from  every  other 
face  or  object,  to  rest  inquiringly  on 
Rupert.  As  for  Nora,  she  went  quietly 
about  her  usual  household  tasks,  divided 
between  jubilant  elation — for  Rupert  was 
still  at  home — and  a  growing  feeling  of 
apprehension.  She  had  not  at  all  worked 
out  the  details  of  her  hasty  transaction ; 
at  the  moment  she  had  thought  only  of 


keeping  Rupert  at  home.  Recalling  now 
her  interview  with  Valdez,  and  the  price 
that  she  had  paid  to  save  Cosme  a  whipping, 
she  began  to  wonder,  for  the  first  time,  how 
she  was  to  account  for  the  fact  that  the 
little  Jersey  had  passed  from  her  ownership 
to  that  of  Valdez.  "  I  will  keep  still  if 
they  ask  me,"  she  decided.  "  I  will  not  tell 
an  untruth — no,  not  to  save  my  life,  or 
Rupert's,  and  that's  worth  more  than  mine — 
but  I  can  keep  still,  and  I'll  ask  Mr.  Valdez 
not  to  tell." 

Full  of  this  purpose,  she  slipped  out  of 
the  house  the  next  morning  almost  before 
it  was  light  enough  to  see  clearly,  and 
started  to  walk  to  the  Mexican's  cabin,  a 
couple  of  miles  away.  But  Valdez  was  also 
astir  early.  He  had  long  coveted  the  Jersey 
heifer,  and,  now  that  she  was  his,  meant 
to  lose  no  time  in  getting  her  in  with  his 
own  small  herd.  He  reflected  complacently 
that  the  heifer  would  amply  repay  any 
financial  loss  that  he  had  incurred  on  ac 
count  of  Cosme's  gambling  propensities.  In 
consequence  of  his  haste  to  gain  possession 
of  the  four-footed  treasure  that  was  to  ac 
complish  so  much,  Nora  had  not  made  half 
the  distance  to  the  Valdez  residence 
when  she  encountered  the  owner  thereof, 
mounted  on  a  gaunt  cow-pony,  and  making 
good  time  in  the  direction  of  the  Carrol 
cattle  ranch.  Valdez  halted  abruptly  as 
Nora's  slender  little  figure  and  anxious  up 
turned  face  appeared  in  the  roadway  be 
fore  him.  He  instantly  jumped  to  the  con 
clusion  that  she  had  come  to  tell  him  that 
he  could  not  have  the  heifer,  and  as  quickly 
decided  that  he  would  be  justified  in  telling 
her,  as  a  means  of  coercion,  that  he  would 
kill  Cosme  if  she  repudiated  her  bargain. 
When,  however,  Nora  made  known  her 
errand,  he  readily  acceded  to  her  views, 
only  stipulating  that  he  might  be  allowed 
to  refer  all  inquirers  to  her  for  an  explana 
tion. 

"  Yes,  you'll  have  to  do  that — you  surely 
will,"  Nora  agreed. 

She  looked  so  unhappy  that  Valdez,  soft- 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


71 


ened,  sought  to  cheer  her  by  feigning  to 
see  some  virtue  in  the  lad  for  whose  sake, 
as  he  supposed,  she  was  sacrificing  so 
mtuch.  "  Maybe  dat  Cosme  goin'  be  more 
civilize'  after  he  git-  'Merican  'ligion,"  he 
said.  "  Maybe  he  be  good  boy ;  I  do'no, 
me — maybe  it  was  like  'Mericans  say :  he 
not  so  w'ite  like  he  is  painted." 

"  Maybe  not,"  returned  Nora.  "  I  hope 
you'll  get  the  heifer  all  right,  Mr.  Valdez." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  gits  her.  I  have  no  troub' 
at  all.  Adios !" 

Nora  sped  back  home,  and  Valdez  rode 
on.  Before  noon  the  pretty  Jersey  was  safe 
in  his  corral.  But  the  Jersey  was,  in  her 
lesser  way,  almost  as  notable  an  animal  as 
the  white  mare,  therefore  when  Rupert  rode 
out  to  the  range  that  morning  and  cast  an 
inquiring  eye  over  the  herd,  her  absence 
was  instantly  discovered.  She  had  never 
been  known  to  stray  away  from  her  mates, 
and  since  none  of  the  other  cattle  were 
missing,  her  disappearance  seemed  unac 
countable.  After  a  pretty  diligent  search, 
bent  on  doing  his  duty  in  this  case,  at 
least,  Rupert  rode  back  to  the  house  and 
reported  the  loss  to  his  father. 

"  Well,  well !  What  will  go  next?  Are 
you  sure  you  have  hunted  for  her  thor 
oughly?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  don't  see  how  anyone  could 
have  stolen  her,  father." 

"  You  didn't  see  how  anyone  could  have 
stolen  Snowflake,  did  you?  But  she  was 
stolen." 

Rupert  was  silent.  After  a  moment's  re 
flection,  Mr.  Carrol  said :  "  You'd  better 
ride  over  and  tell  Valdez ;  he's  at  home  now. 
He'll  get  on  her  track  sooner  than  anyone 
else,  because  he's  all  over  the  country, 
and — 

"  Wait  a  minute,  father,"  interposed  a 
trembling  voice.  "  I — please  don't  send 
Rupert  down  to  ask  Mr.  Valdez  about  Daisy 
— because — please  don't !"  she  concluded, 
lamely. 

Mr.  Carrol  turned  around  and  stared  at 
her  in  sheer  amazement,  then:  "  Why  not?" 


he  demanded.  "  I  never  heard  of  such  a 
silly  thing  in  my  life!  Don't  you  want  to 
find  Daisy  again?" 

"  No — yes — I — father,  she  isn't  lost,  she 
isn't  stolen.  I — I  know  where  she  is.  I 
sold  her." 

"  You  sold  her!"  echoed  her  father.  He 
stared  at  the  girl  a  moment,  and  then  sat 
down  heavily.  It  was  not  like  Eleanor  to 
keep  things  from  him.  "  When  did  you 
sell  her?"  he  asked. 

Nora  shook  her  head  miserably.  "  I — I 
would  rather  not  tell,  father." 

"  What  did  you  get  for  her?" 

Again  Nora  shook  her  head. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  won't  tell?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you,  father.  I  wish  I  could, 
but— I  can't." 

"Why?" 

Nora  burst  into  tears.  "  If  I  could  tell 
you  that,  father,  I  could  tell  it  all  to  you." 

She  was  sitting  beside  the  table,  and, 
as  she  spoke,  she  leaned  her  forehead  upon 
it,  until  her  loose  brown  hair,  falling  on 
either  side  her  face,  hid  its  convulsed  work 
ings.  Mr.  Carrol  looked  at  her — his  little 
daughter,  whom  he  had  always  found,  be 
fore  this,  so  obedient,  so  frank — and  the 
pain  that,  but  a  moment  since,  had  pierced 
his  heart  like  the  thrust  of  a  keen-bladed 
knife,  gave  place  to  another  feeling — some 
thing  cruel  and  savage  that  seemed  to  take 
possession  of  him  as  he  looked  at  the  bent 
head  and  shaking  shoulders  of  the  girl,  who 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  distinctly  re 
fused  to  do  his  bidding,  to  answer  the  ques 
tions  that  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  ask. 

"  You  may  keep  your  secret,"  he  said, 
coldly.  "  A  father  is  of  mighty  little  ac 
count  in  this  house,  it  seems;  but,  until  you 
are  ready  to  explain  the  whole  thing  to  me, 
you  may  stay  in  the  root  cellar,  and  "- 
with  a  glance  at  Mrs.  Eastern,  who  stared 
in  open-mouthed  dismay,  as  she  heard  this 
sentence — "  I'll  keep  the  key." 

"  How  long  is  it  since  I  said  that  I  didn't 
envy  St.  Peter  his  job?"  murmured  the  old 
lady,  solemnly.  "  Yet,  for  all  the  responsi- 


72 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


bility,  I'd  rather  have  it  than  that  of  the 
creatur'  who  keeps  the  keys  to  the  other 
place !" 

"  I'll  keep  the  key,"  repeated  Mr.  Carrol, 
doggedly.  He  rose  from  his  seat,  and,  with 
very  little  aid  from  his  crutch — for  the  in 
jured  foot  was  now  nearly  well — started 
for  the  door.  "  Come,  Eleanor,"  he  said, 
sternly. 

"  Wait,  wait,  James !"  Mrs.  Easton 
begged.  "  You  know — why,  James,  it's  as 
dark  as  a  stack  of  black  cats  in  that  cellar, 
and,  like  enough,  there's  tarantlers,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  centipedes  that  are  always 
there.  And  James,  Nora's  afraid  of  the 
dark,  you  know  that  yourself — James !" 
But  as  Mr.  Carrol  was  by  this  time  outside 
the  door,  she  hurried  after  him,  to  add: 
"  Maybe — oh,  James  !  I  hate  to  say  it  right 
before  the  poor  child !  You  know  it  ain't 
like  Nora  to  act  this  way,  to  be  obstinate. 
She  leaves  that  to  them  that  can  make  a 
plumb  success  of  it.  She  ain't  been  sleep- 
in'  well  lately.  She's  been  havin'  bad 
dreams,  and  she's  afraid  of  the  dark — she 
always  was.  Why,  James !  James !"  her 
voice  rising  to  an  imploring  cry  as  Mr.  Car 
rol  continued  on  his  course  toward  the  root 
cellar  with  Nora  following  meekly  at  his 
heels.  Finding  that  her  son-in-law  would 
not  stop,  Mrs.  Easton  ran  after  him  with 
a  nimbleness  surprising  in  one  of  her  age. 
"  Wait !"  she  beseeched  again,  and  Mr.  Car 
rol  stopped. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  demanded, 
sternly. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,  first,  that  there  was 
a  rattlesnake  in  that  cellar  not  long  ago, 
and  it's  working  alive  with  insects — you 
know  that.  That  was  the  main  reason  why 
you  said  yourself  that  we'd  better  not  put 
things  there  any  more." 

"  Is  that  all  you've  got  to  say?" 

"  No,  it  ain't.  I  hate  to  say  it  before 
Nora,  but  you  compel  me  to.  The  child 
ain't  been  sleepin'  well  lately;  it  ain't  like 
her  to  do  anything  underhanded  or  sneak- 
in',  and,  mavbe — who  can  tell? — she's  been 


havin'  bad  dreams.  Maybe  her  brain  is 
softenin' !" 

As  if  he  almost  hoped  that  her  strange 
conduct  might  be  accounted  for  in  this  way, 
Mr.  Carrol  looked  searchingly  at  Nora. 
The  girl,  knowing  the  wiles  of  her  doting 
grandmother,  returned  the  look,  a  faint 
smile  lighting  up  her  tear-stained  face. 

"  Her  brain  ain't  soft,  nor  her  heart, 
either,"  Mr.  Carrol  announced,  as  the  re 
sult  of  his  inspection.  He  took  another 
step,  and  halted;  in  spite  of  his  anger  it 
pained  him  to  feel  that  he  was  wounding 
the  heart  of  the  woman  that  he  called 
mother.  "  Eleanor  knows  how  to  avoid 
being  locked  up  there,"  he  said.  "  She  has 
only  to  answer  my  questions. 

"  I  cannot  answer  them,"  Nora  said 
again.  But  this  time  the  words  were  ad 
dressed  to  her  grandmother,  who,  in  re 
turn,  studied  her  face  as  attentively,  and 
more  intelligently,  than  her  father  had: 
done. 

"  James,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "  the  Bible 
says:  'He  moves  in  a  mysterious  way,  His 
wonders  to  perform,'  and  it's  so;  yes,  it's 
so.  In  old  days,  too,  they  used  to  put  His 
messengers  into  lions'  dens,  but  we've 
grown  merciful.  We  only  jest  chuck  'em 
into  dark  holes  where  the  centipedes  and 
scorpions  and  tarantlers  can  play  hide-and- 
seek  over  'em ;"  with  which  parting  shot 
she  turned  about  and  started  back  to  the 
house,  while  Nora  and  her  father  contin 
ued  on  their  way  to  the  root  cellar. 

This  cellar  was  a  dark  excavation  in  the 
side  of  the  gully  bank,  at  some  distance 
from  the  house.  In  New  Mexico,  as  in 
Southern  Colorado,  it  is  not  customary  for 
the  people  to  construct  cellars  underneath 
their  houses,  as  in  more  frigid  climates, 
and  this  lack  is  made  up,  in  a  measure,  by 
building  various  kinds  of  dens,  which  might 
not  inaptly  be  described  as  caches,  where 
such  perishable  articles  as  milk,  butter, 
vegetables  and  fruits  are  kept.  If  there 
chances  to  be  a  hillside  near  the  ranch 
house,  the  proprietor's  task  is  easy.  He 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


73 


merely  excavates  a  space  of  the  dimensions 
that  seem  to  him  requisite  for  the  purpose, 
and  the  cellar  is  done.  It  is  not  always 
considered  necessary,  even,  to  add  a  win 
dow  to  the  one  bit  of  architecture — the 
door — but  the  Carrols  were  progressive. 
The  small  cavern  dug  out  of  the  gully  side, 
close  to  the  towering  rock  that  served  in 
stormy  times  as  a  kind  of  wind-break,  had 
a  single  strong  window,  as  well  as  door. 
The  cellar  had  fallen  into  disuse,  chiefly  on 
account  of  its  inconvenient  distance  from 
the  house,  and  the  window,  for  some  reason 
best  known  to  Mr.  Carrol,  had  been  banked 
up  with  earth  and  straw  to  such  a  height 
that  not  the  smallest  ray  of  daylight  could 
penetrate  the  interior.  The  place  was,  as 
Mrs.  Easton  said,  infested  by  vermin  of 
many  sorts — a  fact  of  which  Mr.  Carrol 
was  perfectly  well  aware,  but  which  he 
was,  at  the  time,  too  indignant  to  consider 
seriously.  One  of  the  greatest  drawbacks, 
as  he  knew,  to  the  exploration  of  the 
ruined  homes  of  the  Cliff  Dwellers,  not  so 
far  away,  was  that  the  ruins  had  virtually 
been  taken  possession  of  by  rattlesnakes 
and  adders  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to 
hiss  a  venomous  challenge  to  the  hardy  ad 
venturer  who  should  dare  to  disturb  their 
torpid  ease. 

Reaching  the  cellar,  Mr.  Carrol,  without 
more  words,  unlocked  the  door,  pushed  his 
shrinking  daughter  inside,  and,  relocking 
it,  pocketed  the  key  and  walked  away  with 
out  the  aid  of  his  crutch,  which  he  had  for 
gotten  ;  and  without  limping,  for  he  had 
also  forgotten  his  injury. 

Left  alone  in  a  place  so  dark  and  gloomy 
that  she  had  always,  even  with  the  radiant 
sunshine  of  New  Alexico  streaming  in  at 
the  open  door  and  gilding  its  remotest  cor 
ners,  entered  it  with  a  kind  of  half  formed 
dread,  Nora  stood  quite  still  until,  her 
eyes  becoming  accustomed  to  the  darkness, 
she  made  out  the  dim  outline  of  an  upturned 
butter  firkin,  on  which  she  presently  seated 
herself,  with  a  shuddering  recollection  that 
the  dark  cavern  underneath  it  would  be  the 


place,  of  all  others,  that  a  tarantula  would 
like  best  for  a  permanent  abode.  And 
there  were  always  little  tarantulas  in  their 
permanent  abodes.  As  for  centipedes — as 
she  leaned  forward,  peering  helplessly  into 
the  darkness,  a  lock  of  her  own  soft  hair 
slid  straying  over  one  of  the  hands  that 
were  clasped  around  her  knees,  and  she 
screamed  aloud.  Then,  realizing  what  it 
was,  she  blushed  with  shame  at  her  own 
cowardice.  But  she  was  terribly  over 
wrought  and  unnerved;  she  had  been,  as 
her  grandmother  said,  suffering  from  sleep 
less  nights  and  torturing  dreams.  As  she 
cowered  silently  in  the  thick  darkness,  her 
fancy  began  to  revert  more  and  more  to 
those  dreams,  and  the  other  tormenting 
thought  that  had  at  first  oppressed  her,  was 
thrust  further  into  the  background.  She 
had  begun  to  realize  that  her  plan  had 
been  a  foolish,  ill-considered,  indefensible 
one,  but  she  ceased  to  care  for  that  now. 
"  I  know  that  there  is  such  a  place  as  the 
Land  of  Dreadful  Dreams,"  she  murmured,, 
shuddering,  and  staring  wide-eyed  into  the 
velvety  blackness,  "  and  I  wouldn't  a  bit 
wonder  if  places  like  this  are  kind  of  gate 
ways  that  the  creatures  that  live  in  it  creep 
out  through." 

She  sat  a  long  time — or  what  seemed 
to  her  a  long  time — considering  this 
view  of  her  dreamland  experiences  rather 
than  the  more  directly  personal  problem 
which  should,  it  would  seem,  have  claimed 
her  attention. 

By  the  time  that  certain  soft  little  sounds, 
as  of  bits  of  falling  earth — the  sound  being 
smothered,  as  if  it  might  be  a  long  way 
off,  over  in  the  direction  of  the  window- 
began  to  come  to  her  ears,  she  was  far 
enough  advanced  on  her  dangerous  journey 
into  the  unknown  to  recoil  with  dumb 
terror  from  every  sound,  half  expecting 
that  it  would  be  immediately  followed  by 
some  tangible  creation,  some  pursuing 
phantom  that,  claiming  her  for  prey,  should 
drag  her  bodily  into  that  formless,  terrible 
void,  The  Land  of  Dreadful  Dreams. 


74 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
MR.  CARROL  DECIDES  TO  INTERVIEW  VALDEZ. 

RUPERT  had  sat,  a  silent  listener,  dur 
ing  the  interview  between  Nora  and 
her  father.  When  Nora  admitted 
that  she  knew,  but  yet  refused  to  tell  where 
the  Jersey  was,  the  whole  of  her  poor,  little, 
unselfish  "  plan,"  with  its  fatal  lack  of 
business  sense,  was  suddenly  clear  to  him. 
She  had  bribed  Valdez  to  spare  his  son, 
and  the  bribe  that  she  gave  was  her  be 
loved  heifer.  Something  else  was  made 
clear  to  Rupert — something  that  he  had 
never  before  fully  comprehended — and  that 
was  the  love,  the  absolute  devotion  that  his 
sister  felt  for  him,  and  her  unquestioning 
faith  that,  some  time,  "  when  he  felt  like 
it,  when  he  was  ready,"  he  would  explain 
everything  and  accept  the  consequences, 
whatever  they  might  be.  To  Nora,  he  knew 
that  such  an  admission,  however  long  de 
layed,  would  seem  the  act  of  a  hero.  He 
neither  looked  at  nor  spoke  to  his  sister  as 
she  followed  their  father,  sobbing,  on  the 
way  to  an  imprisonment  that,  to  the  boy 
who  knew  her  so  well,  seemed  as  terrible 
as  it  really  was.  More  could  scarcely  be 
said. 

There  was  a  long  mirror  in  the  room; 
when  Mrs.  Easton  ran  out  in  the  vain  at 
tempt  to  intercede  for  Nora,  Rupert  walked 
across  the  room  and  stood  before  it,  looking 
steadily  at  the  image  reflected  therein. 
What  another,  standing  beside  him,  and 
following  the  direction  of  his  eyes,  would 
have  seen,  was  the  likeness  of  a  very  hand 
some  and  manly-looking  boy  of  sixteen,  or 
thereabout;  but  it  was  not  with  the  outward 
form  that  Rupert  concerned  himself,  and, 
certainly,  the  image  did  not  strike  him  as 
that  of  a  hero.  Looking  gloomily  into  the 
eyes  that  looked  gloomily  back  into  his,  he 
said  aloud :  "  She  did  it  for  you,  and  she 
will  die  before  she  will  betray  you.  Oh, 
you  coward  !  You  coward  !  You  coward  !" 
But  the  look  on  his  face,  as  he  turned  away 
from  the  glass,  was  not  that  of  a  coward. 


Leaving  the  cellar,  with  Nora  safely  be 
stowed  behind  lock  and  key,  Mr.  Carrol 
walked  directly  to  the  stable,  mounted  the 
bay  colt — mounted,  not  without  being  pain 
fully  reminded  that  he  still  had  use  for  his 
forgotten  crutch — and  rode  swiftly  away 
toward  the  Valdez  cabin.  If  he  had  taken 
the  short  cut  along  the  dry  bed  of  the  gully 
that  had  the  day  before  served  to  let  Cosme 
unobserved  out  on  to  the  plains,  he  must 
have  passed  the  Mexican's  corral,  where  he 
would  have  seen  the  Jersey,  and  so  would 
have  been  spared  some  hours  of  remorse 
ful  anguish. 

There  were  no  such  fripperies  as  fence, 
gateway  or  walk  to  mar  the  primitive  sim 
plicity  of  the  Valdez  abode;  accordingly, 
Mr.  Carrol  rode  straight  up  to  the  door, 
which  stood  open,  and  called  for  Valdez. 
The  summons  was  answered  by  Valdez' 
wife,  a  slatternly  woman  with  a  pair  of 
shifty  black  eyes  that  told  their  own  story 
as  to  where  Cosme  got  his  skill  in  deceit. 
In  reply  to  Mr.  Carrol's  inquiry  for  her 
husband,  the  senora  informed  him  that 
Valdez  had  but  that  moment  started  for 
the  Half  Circle  A-Bar  Ranch,  a  dozen  or 
more  miles  to  the  north,  and  that  he  was 
not  expected  to  return  for  some  days — it 
might  be  weeks,  as  he  was  to  assist  those 
cattlemen  in  rounding  up  a  widely  scattered 
herd  of  several  thousand  head  of  cattle. 

"  How  long  did  you  say  he  had  been 
gone?"  asked  Mr.  Carrol,  with  an  anxious 
glance  toward  the  north,  where  a  heavy 
storm  was  gathering — had  already  gathered 
and  broken,  indeed — for  the  muffled  roll  of 
distant  thunder  came  distinctly  to  their  ears. 

Senora  Valdez  cast  her  black  eyes  up  at 
an  imaginary,  invisible  sun,  for  the  sky 
above  them  was  overcast.  "  He  was  gone 
five  min',"  she  announced,  after  a  little  con 
sideration  of  that  quarter  of  the  heavens 
where  she  supposed  the  sun  to  be. 

"  Five  minutes?  Then  I  can  easily  over 
take  him."  He  reined  the  colt  around,  but 
lingered  to  explain  to  Senora  Valdez :  "  I'm 
anxious  to  have  him  look  around  for  my 


Then  I  can  easily  overtake  /iiw,"  he  said,   reining   the   c'oli   around. 


75 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


77 


Jersey  heifer;  she's  missing  this  morning." 
"  Si !"  murmured  Cosme's  mother,  fold 
ing  her  small  brown  hands  demurely  in  her 
scarlet  apron.  "  Si,  sefior."  Leaning 
against  the  door  frame,  she  continued  to 
regard  the  rider  placidly  as  he  struck  spurs 
to  the  colt,  who  went  loping  away  into  the 
heart  of  the  rain  clouds  that  were  rolling 
rapidly  down  to  meet  him ;  but,  out  of  the 
corner  of  her  eye,  she  cast  an  oblique  glance 
toward  the  corral,  and  congratulated  her 
self  that  its  walls  were  high. 

Furiously  angry,  to  all  appearances,  at 
Nora's  persistent  refusal  to  explain  her 
conduct,  Mr.  Carrol  had  decided  to  carry 
out  the  first  idea  that  had  suggested  itself 
to  him,  and  to  employ  Valdez  to  trace  the 
heifer,  which  could  not  be  far  away,  no 
matter  into  whose  possession  it  had  passed. 
Let  him  once  find  out  where  she  was,  and, 
he  told  himself,  he  would  have  her  back, 
even  if  he  were  obliged  to  go  to  law  about 
it.  A  minor  like  Nora  had  no  right  to  dis 
pose  of  property — anyone  ought  to  know 
that.  As  the  bay  colt  pounded  on,  mile 
after  mile,  Mr.  Carrol  began  to  think  of 
the  old  saw,  "  First  catch  your  hare," — the 
hare,  in  this  case,  being  an  able-bodied 
Mexican  mounted  on  a  fleet-footed  cow- 
pony,  and  with  fully  two  hours'  start  of 
the  lame  man  on  the  lumbering  colt. 

Senora  Valdez'  estimates  of  the  sub 
divisions  of  time  wrere  always  more  confi 
dent  than  accurate,  and,  in  this  case,  her 
only  regret,  as  she  cuddled  her  arms  com 
fortably  in  the  scarlet  apron,  and  contin 
ued  to  watch  the  vanishing  rider,  was  that 
she  had  not  said  two  minutes  instead  of 
five ;  all  the  more,  then,  would  the  white 
sefior  have  felt  encouraged  to  keep  up  a 
chase  that  she  knew  was  bound  to  prove 
entirely  futile.  It  did  not  seem  to  her, 
however,  that  it  mattered  in  the  least  where 
the  Sefior  Carrol  went,  so  that  he  went  far 
enough,  and  fast  enough,  away  from  the 
vicinity  of  the  Valdez  corral.  A  slow, 
meditative  smile  stirred  her  lips  as  she 
glanced  toward  the  north  and  at  the  dark 


masses  of  clouds  charged  with  a  deluge  of 
rain.  She  thought  of  the  Elescalante 
Arroyo,  a  narrow,  rocky  gully,  miles  in 
length,  that  cut  across  the  road  between 
their  cottage  and  the  Half  Circle  A-Bar 
Ranch,  like  the  gash  of  an  unhealed  wound 
on  the  surface  of  the  plains.  Down  its 
almost  perpendicular  walls  a  horse  must 
zigzag  cutiously  at  any  time,  and,  even  after 
a  short  rain,  let  alone  such  a  waterspout 
as  the  coming  storm  promised  to  be,  the 
pent-up  waters  in  its  narrow  bed  trans 
formed  the  dry  gully  in  a  few  minutes  to 
a  raging  torrent,  impassable  for  man  or 
beast.  "  If  Sefior  Carrol  crosses  over  be- 
yon'  the  Elescalante  when  the  rain  it  is 
comin',  he  will  stay  beyon'  it  when  that 
the  rain  it  is  come,"  Senora  Valdez  as 
sured  herself,  and  sat  down  inside  the  door 
way  to  roll  a  cigaret,  while  waiting  for  the 
rain  that  presently  forced  her  to  close  the 
door. 

Carrol  had  ridden  five  or  six  miles  be 
fore  the  pain  in  his  ankle  became  so  insup 
portable  that  even  his  stoicism  could  no 
longer  ignore  it.  Besides,  he  had  not  yet 
caught  the  faintest  glimpse  of  the  man 
whom  he  was  following.  The  plains  just 
about  him  were  undulating,  and  he  thought 
that  if  he  could  but  force  himself  to  hold 
out  until  he  reached  the  top  of  the  next 
rise,  which  commanded  a  long  stretch  of 
level  land,  he  must  surely  see  and  be  able 
to  signal  Valdez.  Between  him  and  the 
top  of  the  next  rise,  however,  lay  the 
Elescalante  Arroyo;  down  its  steep  sides 
he  urged  his  horse  at  a  snail's  pace,  dashed 
through  the  sandy  bottom,  crept  up  the  op 
posite  bank,  and  reached  the  desired  point 
at  last,  only  to  be  met  by  a  deluge  of  rain, 
driven  before  a  wind  so  fierce  that  it  nearly 
took  away  his  breath.  Before  its  sweeping 
advance  the  whole  landscape  was  rendered 
an  indistinguishable  blur,  almost  instantly; 
he  could  not  have  seen  Valdez  then  if  he 
had  been  within  twenty  rods  of  him,  in 
stead  of  being,  as  he  was  at  that  moment, 
snugly  ensconced  in  the  kitchen  of  the 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


Half  Circle  A-Bar.  As  the  rain  dashed 
over  him,  Mr.  Carrol  turned  in  his  saddle 
to  look  for  his  "  slicker,"  or  waterproof 
coat,  a  necessary  part  of  the  range  rider's 
equipment,  which  is  usually  carried  in  a 
compact  roll,  attached  to  the  saddle.  The 
slicker  was  not  in  its  accustomed  place, 
which  fact  considerably  surprised  its  owner. 
To  his  knowledge  the  saddle  had  not  been 
in  use  since  the  day  of  his  accident,  and  he 
distinctly  remembered  dismounting  on  that 
day,  just  before  reaching  the  round-up 
camp,  to  tie  the  slicker  more  securely  to  it. 
Rupert  had,  in  fact,  untied  the  coat  and 
tossed  it  aside  as  an  unnecessary  encum 
brance  on  the  night  of  that  disastrous  ride, 
and  had  forgotten  to  replace  it  on  his  re 
turn. 

Not  finding  the  coat,  Mr.  Carrol  looked 
about  for  some  place  of  shelter.  His  plains 
training  told  him  that  a  storm  of  such  vio 
lence  must  inevitably  be  of  short  duration, 
and  he  preferred  to  await  its  passing,  to 
getting  thoroughly  drenched.  He  had,  by 
this  time,  again  reached  the  arroyo;  riding 
part  way  down  its  steep  bank,  he  came  to 
a  ledge  of  overhanging  rock  close  beside 
the  trail.  Dismounting,  he  hastily  divested 
the  horse  of  saddle  and  blanket,  tossed  them 
under  the  protecting  rock,  and  followed 
them,  not  a  minute  too  soon.  The  rain  was 
now  descending  in  long,  slanting,  solid 
sheets,  that  beat  upon  the  hard  ground  and 
the  nearby  rocks  with  the  loud  impact  of 
descending  hail-stones.  There  was  no 
room  for  the  colt  under  the  ledge,  but  Mr. 
Carrol  clung  to  his  bridle  and  scolded  him 
roundly  as  he  pulled  and  fretted,  twisting 
about  in  a  vain  attempt  to  obtain  shelter 
from  the  pitiless  fury  of  the  storm.  Mr. 
Carrol  had  no  instinct  for  animals;  he  did 
not  understand  them,  and  his  love  for 
Snowflake  had  been  fully  as  much  the  pride 
of  ownership  as  of  any  real  appreciation 
of  the  exceptionally  fine  qualities  of  the 
mare.  If  it  had  been  Rupert  crouching 
under  a  rock  to  escape  the  storm  which 
his  horse  must  weather  without  shelter,  he 


would  have  talked  commiseratingly  with 
the  animal,  would  have  aroused  in  him,  if 
he  had  not  been  utterly  stupid — which  the 
bay  colt  probably  was — a  feeling  of  loyalty, 
of  devotion,  that  would  have  precluded  the 
possibility  of  desertion.  But  it  was  Ru 
pert's  father,  and,  at  a  peculiarly  deter 
mined  tug  that  the  colt  gave  the  bit  in  the 
effort  to  turn  his  hind  quarters  where  his 
head  should  be,  Mr.  Carrol  gave  him  a 
resounding  slap  on  the  cheek.  The  colt, 
already  more  enraged  than  even  his  irri 
table  master,  reared,  struck  out  with  his 
iron-shod  hoofs — fortunately  missing  his 
aim — but  startling  Mr.  Carrol  into  dropping 
his  hold  of  the  bridle;  then,  whirling 
around,  he  went  tearing  straight  down  the 
bank,  through  the  arroyo  bottom — where 
the  water,  thick  with  foam  and  debris,  was 
already,  above  his  fetlocks — dashed  up  the 
opposite  bank,  and  so,  with  bridle  reins 
dragging,  struck  out  for  home  and  shelter, 
as  straight  as  the  crow  flies. 

Mr.  Carrol,  for  the  moment  utterly  dis 
mayed,  crouched  back  under  the  rock,  won 
dering  how  he  was  to  get  home.  He  had 
neither  seen  the  water  in  the  arroyo,  nor 
heard,  above  the  roar  of  the  falling  rain, 
the  splashing  made  by  the  colt's  hoofs  as 
he  dashed  through  it.  He  sat  for  a  long 
time  wondering  and  thinking  with  growing 
apprehension  of  poor  Nora,  locked  up  in 
the  noisome  root  cellar,  and  afraid  of  the 
dark,  before  he  awoke  to  the  imminent  dan 
ger  of  his  own  position. 

The  wind  had  gone  down,  the  rain  had 
ceased,  and  he  started  to  leave  the  shelter 
of  the  rock,  when  a  sound  reached  his  ear 
that  brought  to  his  face  an  awful,  indescrib 
able  change — such  a  change  as  might  come 
to  one,  who,  utterly  unsuspecting,  finds  him 
self  suddenly  face  to  face  with  death.  He 
had  heard  a  sound  like  the  voice  of  many 
waters,  and  he  knew  instantly  what  it 
meant.  Imprisoned  within  the  narrow, 
rocky  confines  of  the  arroyo,  a  flood  was 
coming — a  flood  that  caused  the  very  earth 
to  tremble,  as  ifc  swept  resistlessly  along  its 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


79 


course — and  he  was  crouching  under  a  rock 
half  way  down  the  arroyo  bank — the  bank 
farthest  from  his  home. 

A  flood?  He  himself  had  stood  on  the 
other  bank,  one  day,  and  seen  a  black  wall 
of  water,  fifteen  feet  high,  sweep  down  the 
arroyo,  bearing  everything  before  it.  It 
came  on  that  occasion  from  a  cloudburst 
up  in  the  mountains,  and  he  had  watched 
the  phenomenal  rapidity  of  its  advance  with 
absorbed  interest.  Within  two  minutes  the 
narrow,  dry  creek  was  a  dry*  creek  no 
longer;  it  was  so  full  that  little  dashes  of 
foam,  torn  from  the  waves  by  the  swiftness 
of  their  advance,  were  tossed  to  his  very 
feet  as  he  had  stood  upon  the  bank.  And 
now — now  he  was  nearer  to  the  bottom  of 
the  gully  than  to  its  top,  and  the  waters 
were  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  XXL 
A  RIDERLESS  HORSE. 

AFTER  that  brief,  scornful  survey  of 
his  own  face  and  figure  as  revealed 
in  the  mirror,  Rupert  hurried  from 
the  room.  He  was  going  out  to  the  cellar, 
intent  on  securing  Nora's  release  by  a 
straightforward  recital  of  the  whole  story, 
when  the  sound  of  clattering  hoof-beats 
down  the  road  drew  his  attention  in  that 
direction.  The  lively  rat-a-tat,  rat-a-tat 
came  from  the  hurrying  feet  of  the  bay 
colt,  and  he  was  carrying  his  master  toward 
the  Valdez  cabin.  Rupert  understood  at 
once  what  that  meant. 

"  But  he'll  get  nothing  out  of  old  Val 
dez,"  he  told  himself,  thoughtfully.  "  Val 
dez  isn't  owning  up,  to  any  great  extent, 
when  it  comes  to  a  property  deal  in  which 
he  gets  the  best  of  it." 

For  an  instant  he  was  tempted  to  ride 
after  his  father  and  confess  all  before  his 
father  could  meet  Valdez,  but  a  moment's 
reflection  convinced  him  that  this  would 
be  useless.  While  it  could  not  possibly 
benefit  Nora,  it  might  cause  his  father  to 


discredit  his  story,  since  it  might  appear 
to  him  that  he  (Rupert)  feared  to  have 
him  talk  with  Valdez.  After  lingering 
irresolutely  about  for  a  little,  he  at  length 
turned  his  steps  again  toward  the  cellar 
where  Nora  was  imprisoned.  Reminding 
himself  that  his  father  had  neither  forbid 
den  anyone  to  go  near  Nora,  nor  yet  to  look 
in  upon  her — if  they  could — he  began  in 
dustriously  digging  out  the  half-rotted  straw 
that  was  piled  over  the  window.  It  was 
the  faint,  muffled  sound  of  this  digging 
that  Nora  heard  when  she  imagined  that 
some  familiar  demon  might  be  creeping  in 
upon  her  from  the  Land  of  Dreams.  In 
his  haste,  Rupert  had  not  stopped  to  sup 
ply  himself  with  proper  implements  for  the 
purpose,  but  was  digging  out  and  throwing 
the  straw  aside  with  his  bare  hands.  Sud 
denly,  with  an  involuntary  cry,  he  sprang 
backward;  he  had  found  on  the  outside  of 
the  cellar  what  poor  Nora,  on  the  inside, 
was  thinking  of  with  sick  apprehension. 
The  last  handful  of  straw,  on  being  re 
moved,  had  unearthed  a  nest  of  tarantulas. 
The  great,  hairy,  repulsive-looking  mother 
spider  straightened  up  on  her  eight  long 
legs,  and  seemed  to  Rupert  to  glare  men 
acingly  at  him  before  she  scuttled  out  of 
sight,  while  the  rotten  straw  was  suddenly 
alive  with  miniature  copies  of  herself, 
scampering  off  in  all  directions.  Luckily, 
Rupert's  hands  had  not  touched  the  poison 
ous  creatures,  but  he  shuddered  as  he  real 
ized  the  narrowness  of  his  escape. 

Nora  had  not  known  of  his  presence 
until  his  cry  attracted  her  attention.  She 
got  up  and  hurried  over  to  the  window. 
"Rupert,  Rupert!  Was  that  you?"  she 
called,  eagerly. 

"  Yes ;  go  away  from  the  window,  Nora." 
His  voice  had  an  unusual  sound  that  filled 
Nora  with  vague  alarm. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Rupert?"  she  per 
sisted,  pressing  still  closer  to  the  window 
behind  which,  inside  or  out,  as  Rupert 
knew,  a  legion  of  fighting  tarantulas, 
aroused  and  on  the  alert,  were  hiding. 


80 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


If  one  should  bite  her — there  in  that  hole 
from  which  there  was  no  escape,  and  in 
the  dark — Rupert  believed  that  she  would 
either  faint  away  or  go  into  convulsions; 
she  might,  in  fact,  do  either,  if  he  so  much 
as  told  her  what  he  had  just  seen. 

"  Nora !"  he  shouted,  sternly,  raising  his 
voice  to  make  it  the  more  impressive,  "  get 
back  from  the  window,  as  I  tell  you;  mind 
me,  now !" 

"  I  will,"  came  the  answer.  And  Nora 
stumbled  back  to  her  seat  on  the  butter 
firkin,  wondering  what  had  made  Rupert 
so  cross,  but  feeling  a  warm  glow  of  thank 
fulness  that  he  had  come. 

Meanwhile,  Rupert,  having  stopped  long 
enough  to  get  a  pitchfork,  was  again  at 
work  at  the  window,  and  Nora  had  scarcely 
seated  herself  when  a  long  shaft  of  day 
light  entering  dispelled  the  darkness  of 
her  prison.  A  few  more  turns  of  the  pitch 
fork,  and  the  window  was  cleared.  Then 
Rupert,  with  an  eye  out  for  tarantulas, 
which  still  remained  invisible,  pressed  his 
face  against  the  grimy  panes.  "  Hello, 
Nora!  How  goes  it?" 

"  Pretty  well,"  replied  his  sister,  joy 
fully,  all  her  fears  taking  wing  with  the 
advent  of  light  and  Rupert.  "  Didn't  you 
cry  out?"  she  added.  "  I  was  sure  I  heard 
you." 

"  I  had  to  cry  out,  didn't  I,  to  make  you 
hear?" 

"  Oh,  but  your  voice  sounded  strange." 

"  So  did  yours ;  anyone's  would  through 
a  few  tons  of  dirt  and  straw,  I  reckon." 

"  Did  father  say  you  might —  '  began 
Nora,  anxiously,  and  stopped. 

"  Might  blast  for  you?  No,  it's  my  own 
idea  entirely." 

"  It's  awful  good  of  you.  I  don't  see 
what  makes  me  so  cowardly.  I  was  just 
sick  with  fright  before  I  heard  you." 

"  I  was  nearly  sick  with  fright  after  I 
heard  you,"  thought  Rupert,  but  prudently 
forbore  to  say  so;  instead  he  remarked, 
"  Well,  Nora,  you  seem  to  have  gone  into 
the  cattle  business  on  your  own  account. 


Hadn't  you  better  take  me  into  partner 
ship?" 

Nora,  to  her  brother's  secret  distress,  had 
drawn  nearer  to  the  window,  but,  as  he  was 
pretty  sure  that  the  tarantula  and  her  fam 
ily  were  snugly  bestowed  in  the  recesses  of 
a  small,  round  hole,  just  underneath  the 
window-casing,  he  merely  put  his  hoof  heel 
on  the  hole  and  made  no  reference  to  it. 
The  momentary  relief  occasioned  by  Ru 
pert's  presence  had  again  given  place  in 
Nora  to  the  dull,  benumbing  pain  that  his 
silence  when  she  was  punished  had  caused. 
She  made  no  reply,  and  Rupert  went  on: 

"  You  had  better  take  me  into  partner 
ship,  as  far  as  telling  me  all  about  it  goes; 
you  really  had,  Nora." 

Nora  hesitated.  "  You  must  know, 
Rupert,"  she  said,  at  last. 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  I  know,  pretty  well,"  was 
the  answer,  "  but  I'd  like  to  hear  the  de 
tails." 

Nora  gave  him  the  details,  accordingly, 
and  at  the  conclusion  of  her  story  asked 
abruptly:  "Where's  father?" 

"  He's  gone  over  to  see  Valdez,  I  be 
lieve.  I  saw  him  riding  off  in  that  direc 
tion." 

A  pang  shot"  through  Nora's  heart  at 
these  words.  Rupert  had  risked  nothing  in 
coming  to  her;  perhaps  he  would  not  have 
come  if  their  father  had  been  at  home. 
Still,  true  to  her  determination  to  shield 
him  at  all  hazards,  she  broke  out  hurriedly: 
"  You  had  better  pile  the  straw  back  against 
the  window  again  and  go  away,  Rupert; 
father  will  be  angry  again  if  he  finds  that 
you  have  been  letting  light  in  here." 

"  Don't  you  worry,  sis,"  returned  Rupert, 
stooping  to  pick  up  a  small  stone  which  he 
planted  securely  over  the  mouth  of  the 
tarantula's  residence.  "  I'm  going  to  let 
light  into  some  other  places  than  this  cel 
lar."  There  was  no  mistaking  the  tone 
in  which  this  was  said,  even  though  the 
words  came,  muffled  and  faint,  through  the 
barrier  between  them. 

Nora  pressed  up  close  to  the  window  on 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


81 


her  side;  there  was  a  triumphant  ring  in 
her  voice  as  she  spoke.  "  Are  you,  Rupert  ? 
Are  you,  really?  Oh,  I  am  so  glad!" 

"That's  all  right;  but  you're  not  in  a 
particularly  joyful  setting.  I  wish  you 
would  keep  back  from  the  window." 

"  Why  ?"  Nora  stared  about  the  little 
opening  in  surprise.  "  There's  nothing 
wrong  about  it  that  I  can  see,"  she  urged. 

"  You  don't  know ;  maybe  the  sills  are 
rotten.  It  might  cave  in  after  my  taking 
the  straw  away,  so." 

"  It  seems  safe,  and  the  walls  are  so 
thick,"  Nora  persisted,  lingering. 

"  Say,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do !"  ex 
claimed  Rupert,  suddenly  starting  back 
himself,  as  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  set 
of  long,  hairy  legs  that  seemed  to  be  quiv 
ering  on  the  verge  of  a  spring,  while  the 
phenomenally  bright  eyes  of  their  owner  re 
garded  him  attentively  from  the  shelter  of  a 
crevice  in  the  rotten  window-ledge.  "  You 
go  and  sit  down  on  that  old  firkin  and  keep 
away  from  the  window,  and  I'll  get  my 
violin  and  play  for  you;  that'll  be  better 
than  trying  to  talk  this  way." 

"  So  it  will,"  Nora  agreed,  happily.  She 
was  no  longer  fearful  that  her  father  would 
be  offended  with  her  for  consenting  to  any 
alleviation  of  her  imprisonment,  since  Ru 
pert  was  ready  to  explain.  "  You  haven't 
played  for  a  long  time,"  she  added,  and 
instantly  regretted  what  might  seem  like 
an  unnecessary  reference  to  the  late  trou 
ble.  In  her  reliance  on  her  brother,  the 
trouble  was  already  relegated  to  the  past, 
no  matter  what  the  outcome  of  Rupert's 
revelation.  With  her,  the  trouble  had  been 
for  long,  not  the  loss  of  property,  but  the 
cloud  upon  Rupert's  integrity. 

Rupert,  who  was  already  half  way  to  the 
stable,  had  not  heard  the  remark,  and  it 
was  but  a  moment  before  he  reappeared 
with  the  violin  under  his  arm.  During  his 
absence,  however,  brief  as  it  was,  Nora's 
attention  had  been  attracted  by  a  sound  like 
that  made  by  a  heavy  rain.  She  had  prom 
ised  to  keep  away  from  the  window,  and 


she  could  catch  no  glimpse  of  the  world 
outside  through  the  dirt-encrusted  panes. 
"  It  can't  be  rain,"  she  thought.  "  If  it 
was,  I  should  see  drops  on  the  glass." 

It  had  escaped  her  notice  that,  as  the 
cellar  faced  the  south,  owing  to  the  shel 
ter  of  the  cliff-like  hill  on  the  north,  as 
well  as  to  that  of  the  great  rock  beside  the 
window,  the  bit  of  level  space  in  front  of 
it  would  be  nearly  as  well  protected  as  it 
would  have  been  had  there  been  a  roof 
over  it.  While  she  was  still  wondering, 
Rupert's  face  appeared  at  the  window. 

"  Here  we  are;  now  you  just  sit  still  and 
listen  to  the  entertainment." 

"  But  wait — wait,  Rupert !"  In  her 
anxiety  Nora  again  approached  the  window, 
and  Rupert  began,  rather  ostentatiously,  to 
replace  the  violin  in  the  case  that  he  had 
just  taken  it  from. 

"  You  promised  to  keep  away  from  the 
window,"  he  observed. 

"  Oh,  I  will !"  cried  Nora,  retreating, 
hastily.  "  But  I  thought — I  think — I  heard 
rain." 

"  Which,  having  good  ears,  you  certainly 
did,  and  probably  do,"  replied  Rupert,  seat 
ing  himself  composedly  on  a  convenient  pro 
jection  of  rock,  and  proceeding  to  tune  his 
violin. 

"  Is  it  raining?" 

"  Hard." 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  get  wet,  Rupert  dear. 
It's  so  good  of  you  to  offer  to  play  for  me, 
but  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  get  wet." 

"  And  I  can't  bear  to  have  my  violin  get 
wet;  that's  the  reason  why  I'm  going  to 
sit  right  here  where  there  can't  a  drop  of 
water  touch  me." 

"  And  there's  father,"  observed  Nora, 
sorrowfully.  "  It's  the  first  time  he's  been 
out  since  his  accident.  He'll  be  sure  to 
get  a  soaking." 

Rupert,  who  had  purposely  placed  him 
self  so  that,  while  playing,  he  might  have 
an  eye  on  the  road  by  which  his  father 
would  return,  made  no  reply,  and  not  many 
minutes  had  passed  before  Nora,  listening 


82 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


entranced  to  the  waves  of  melody  beating 
their  way  upward  against  the  strong, 
drowning  rush  of  the  rain,  became  oblivi 
ous  of  her  surroundings  and  all  beside. 
Rupert  did  not  forget;  while  to  all  appear 
ances  as  completely  absorbed  in  the  music 
as  Nora  herself,  he  yet  kept  a  sharp  lookout, 
not  only  on  the  tarantula-infested  corner 
by  the  window,  but  upon  the  roadway. 

He  was  resolved  not  to  lose  a  minute  in 
acquainting  his  father  with  the  real  mo 
tive  for  Nora's  late  business  transaction, 
and  with  the  real  facts  in  regard  to  Snow- 
flake's  disappearance.  It  seemed  strange 
to  him  now — he  who  had  so  lately  shrunk 
like  a  guilty  coward  from  accepting  the 
consequences  of  his  own  bad  acts — that 
such  an  intolerable,  crushing  load  had  been 
lifted  from  his  heart  by  the  mere  resolve 
to  do  what  was  right,  at  any  cost. 

"  It's  all  Nora's  doings,"  he  thought, 
gratefully.  "  Why,  I  might  have  been  a 
hunted  criminal  by  now,  but  for  hu-r !" 

Half  an  hour  passed,  then  the  melody 
that  the  boy's  wizard  fingers  were  evoking 
from  the  instrument  stopped  with  a  dis 
cordant  jar  that  brought  Nora  out  of  a 
blissful  trance,  and  made  her  jump  in  alarm. 
"What's  the  matter?  How  you  startled 
me !"  she  cried. 

"  Did  I  ?"  returned  Rupert,  stooping  to 
pick  up  the  bow  that  had  slipped  from  his 
fingers.  "  I  just  dropped  my  bow,  that's 
all."  He  strove  to  speak  quietly  in  spite 
of  his  quickened  pulses  and  throbbing 
heart.  "  I'm  going  away  for  a  tew  min 
utes,"  he  added,  and  was  gone. 

"  In  the  rain  ?"  protested  Nora,  but  to 
no  purpose.  Rupert  was  already  on  his 
way  to  the  stable,  beside  which,  vaguely 
outlined  against  a  blurring  background  of 
rain,  the  bay  colt  had  suddenly  appeared, 
riderless. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
MRS.  EASTON  RELEASES  THE  CAPTIVE. 

MRS.  EASTON  had  also  seen  the 
riderless  horse,  and,  as  Rupert 
reached  the  stable,  she  came  hurry 
ing  out.  The  wind  caught  her  loosened 
gray  hair  and  sent  it  streaming  out  behind 
like  a  defiant  banner;  the  rain  pelted  her 
face  and  her  uncovered  head,  but  she  did 
not  heed  such  minor  discomforts. 

"  Now,"  she  panted,  breathlessly,  as  she 
reached  the  boy's  side,  "  I  don't  expect 
nothin'  but  what  a  jedgment  has  overtook 
us  all !  There's  been  some  dark  carryin's 
on  here  lately,  and  the  punishment  for  'em 
has  come;  it  has  come — the  heft  of  it — on 
James  Carrol,  where  it  don't  all  belong, 
not  by  no  means !"  The  tears  mingled  with 
the  raindrops  that  streamed  down  her 
ruddy  cheeks  as  she  wrung  her  hands  in 
helpless  distress.  "  Oh,  how  true  is  the 
words  of  Mr.  Watts  when  he  says,  '  Oh, 
\vhat  a  tangled  web  we  weave  when  first 
we  practice  to  deceive  !'  " 

"  Confound  it  all !"  cried  Rupert,  goaded 
to  fury,  "  I  wish  that  Mr.  Watts  had 
broken  his  neck  before  ever  he  took  to  writ 
ing  verses !  He's  got  one  pat  for  every 
breath  that  I  draw." 

"  Don't  talk  about  broken  necks,  child," 
his  grandmother  admonished  him  tremu 
lously.  "  We've  like  got  one  in  our  fam 
ily,  this  minute.  What  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

"  Why,  I'm  going  out  to  look  for  father, 
of  course.  He  went  toward  the  Valdez 
place." 

"Can  I  help  you  any?" 

"  Yes,  just  hang  on  to  the  colt's  bridle, 
while  I  put  a  saddle  on  to  Vidette."  He 
had  his  own  pony  out  of  the  stable,  and  the 
saddle  on  her  back,  almost  before  his  grand 
mother  comprehended  what  he  was  about. 

An  instant  more  and  the  cinches  were 
drawn  taut,  and  Rupert,  with  a  motion  light 
and  swift  as  a  bird  taking  wing,  was  in  the 
saddle. 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


83 


"  Give  me  that  bridle,"  he  said,  leaning 
down  from  his  saddle  to  snatch  it.  "  Now, 
grandma,  do  go  in  and  get  your  wet  clothes 
off.  And  don't  worry.  Don't  you  see  that 
the  colt  has  just  given  father  the  slip  in 
some  way.  If  father  had  been  thrown,  the 
saddle  would  be  on  the  horse  yet." 

There  was  comfort  as  well  as  good  sense 
in  this  reasoning.  Mrs.  Easton  looked  after 
the  vanishing  trio  a  moment,  revolving  it, 
then  she  walked  away,  but  not  toward  the 
house.  Her  garments  were  streaming — a 
fact  of  which  she  appeared  to  be  utterly 
unconscious — as  she  approached  the  root 
cellar.  She  had  been  perfectly  cognizant 
of  Rupert's  whereabouts  and  occupation 
since  his  father's  departure,  and  both  had 
met  \vith  her  entire  approval.  Now,  she 
felt,  it  was  time  for  her  to  act;  Rupert 
might  be  mistaken.  "  If  James  is  lost,  or 
even  if  he's  hurt,"  she  reflected,  struggling 
against  the  wind  that  whipped  her  wet  gar 
ments  about  her  legs  in  what  seemed  like 
a  determined  effort  to  impede  her  prog 
ress,  "  in  the  excitement  and  suspense  that's 
sure  to  follow,  nobody  '11  think  of  asking 
him  for  the  key  to  the  cellar,  or  even  of 
lookin'  in  his  pockets  for  it;  and  he  put 
it  in  his  coat  pocket,  I  noticed  that.  Like 
enough  he's  lost  his  coat  as  well  as  him 
self,  and  that  poor  girl  locked  up  out  there 
all  alone !" 

She  had  by  this  time  reached  the  wood 
pile,  where  she  stopped  long  enough  to  pick 
up  an  axe.  ' '  Necessity  knows  no  law.' 
I've  heard  that  lots  of  times,"  she  reflected, 
plunging  recklessly  on  in  more  senses  than 
one.  "  If  James  was  alive,  or  even  if  he 
ain't  killed,  he'd  thank  me  for  rememberin' 
Eleanor,  when  everyone  else  loses  their 
heads  and  forgets  all  about  her !" 

She  was  not  at  all  surprised,  on  reach 
ing  the  cellar,  to  find  the  straw  removed 
from  the  blocked-up  window.  Taking 
refuge  beside  the  sheltering  rock,  she 
called :  "  Eleanor,  Eleanor  !  Be  you  alive, 
my  darling?" 

Nora,  seated  on  the  firkin  in  the  middle 


of  the  cellar,  had  been  straining  her  ears 
to  catch  any  sound  above  the  persistent 
dash  of  the  rain.  In  spite  of  his  attempted 
lightness,  there  had  been  a  note  of  alarm 
in  Rupert's  voice  which  Nora  was  quick  to 
detect.  She  \vas  very  uneasy,  but  she 
could  not  help  smiling  at  her  grandmother's 
anxious  inquiry. 

"  Yes,  grandma,  I'm  alive  yet,"  she  re 
sponded,  cheerfully.  "  It  isn't  much  past 
dinner  time,  is  it?  I  couldn't  have  starved 
to  death  yet,  you  know." 

"  I'm  glad  you're  alive,  child.  I  guess 
we're  goin'  to  need  you,"  remarked  the  old 
lady,  ambiguously. 

"Has  father  got  back?  And  where  did 
Rupert  go?"  questioned  Nora,  eagerly. 

Both  questions  were  hard  to  answer,  but, 
knowing  that  she  must  be  able  to  offer,  to 
the  prisoner  herself,  some  sufficient  excuse 
for  what  she  was  about  to  do,  Mrs.  Easton 
had  resolved  to  tell  the  truth,  or  as  nearly 
the  truth  as  she  could,  in  her  present  state 
of  excitement  and  distress,  approximate  it. 
"  Rupert  has  gone  after  his  father,"  she 
explained.  "  He's  young,  but  he  may  be 
able  to  save  him,  for  all  that." 

"  Gone  after  father  !"  Nora  came  to  the 
window  and  pressed  her  face  against  the 
panes.  "What  can  you  mean,  grandma?" 

"  Oh,  it's  all  plain !"  returned  the  old 
lady,  with  a  whimper.  "  It's  a  jedgment, 
that's  what  it  is.  He  came  home  flyin',  with 
the  bridle  on,  and  covered  with  mud,  and — 

Nora  gave  a  cry  of  anguish.  "  Oh, 
grandma!  What  has  happened?  What 
has  happened?  Why  did  father  come  home 
with  the  bridle  on?" 

"  I  didn't  say  that,  child.  I  said  he 
came  home  without  a  rider." 

"  Who  came  home  without  a  rider, 
grandma?"  Nora  implored. 

"  The  bay  colt,  of  course.  Who  else 
should  come,  except  your  father,  and  he's 
been  left  behind  somewhere — 'the  Lord 
above  knows  where,  or  how — but  this  I'm 
sure  of:  I'll  do  my  duty,  just  as  James  would 
wish  me  to,  if  he  was  alive  and  lookin' 


84 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


down  on  me  from  heaven — or  wherever  he 
is — this  minute  !  Stand  back,  Eleanor — 
away  back,  at  the  other  side  of  the  cellar." 

Nora  obey,  wondering  what  was  coming 
next.  She  was  not  long  left  in  doubt. 
Raising  the  axe,  Mrs.  Easton  brought  it 
down  on  the  window  with  a  resounding 
blow  that  effectually  shattered  all  the  glass 
and  nearly  all  the  sash.  The  blow  was 
followed  by  a  rush  of  delicious,  rain- 
washed  air.  Nora  inhaled  it  gratefully; 
she  had  not  before  realized  how  rank  and 
noisome  the  atmosphere  of  the  cellar  had 
been.  But  she  trembled  for  the  possible 
consequences  of  her  grandmother's  bold  act. 
Her  grandmother  was  not  trembling  in  the 
least;  she  was  cautiously  removing  more 
sash. 

"  Oh,  grandma !  I — I'm  afraid  father 
will  be  so  angry !"  Nora  faltered. 

"  You  forgit  that  James  is  killed,  most 
likely — or,  at  any  rate,  badly  hurt — and 
he'll  be  thankful  enough,  in  either  case,  as 
I  said  before,  to  have  any  responsibility 
taken  off  his  shoulders;  besides,"  she  went 
on,  relentlessly,  "  if  he's  killed,  and  his 
relicts  is  found,  it's  goin'  to  tax  all  our 
minds  to  see  to  the  funeral  as  it  ought  to 
be  seen  to,  and  you'll  be  needed  somewhere 
else  than  in  this  cellar." 

In  her  heart  of  hearts,  Mrs.  Easton  was, 
even  at  that  moment,  in  spite  of  her  un 
certainty  as  to  his  fate,  so  angry  with  her 
son-in-law,  and  so  bitterly  resented  his 
treatment  of  Nora,  that  there  was  more 
than  a  suggestion  of  resignation  in  the 
tone  in  which  she  spoke  of  making  arrange 
ments  for  his  funeral.  But  at  these  words, 
Nora  had  burst  into  such  passionate  weep 
ing  that  the  sound  of  her  sobs  brought  her 
grandmother  to  her  better  senses. 

"  There,  there,  there,  child !  Do  stop 
cryin'  so!  I  don't  think  that  James  is 
killed — Lord  forbid !  But  he  may  be  hurt, 
and  if  he  is,  you'll  be  needed  at  the  house. 
Come  now,  climb  right  out  here;  be  care 
ful  of  the  glass." 

Stirling  her  sobs,  and  stepping  gingerly 


around  the  splintered  mass  of  glass,  Nora 
reached  the  aperture  where  the  window 
had  so  lately  been,  and  crept  cautiously 
through.  It  had  stopped  raining  almost  as 
suddenly  as  it  began,  and  the  late  after 
noon  sun  was  lighting  up  the  rain-drenched 
landscape  as  they  walked  back  to  the  house 
together. 

Mrs.  Easton  then  proceeded  to  change 
her  wet  clothing,  while  Nora  busied  her 
self  in  the  preparation  of  a  belated  dinner, 
which  she  could  not  herself  touch,  although 
earnestly  admonished  to  do  so  by  Mrs. 
Easton,  who  declared  it  her  duty  to  keep 
herself  inwardly  strengthened  for  whatever 
calamity  might  be  in  store  for  them.  Dis 
couraged  by  Nora's  want  of  appetite,  the 
old  lady  abandoned  her  own  efforts  in  be 
half  of  an  inward  strength. 

"  There's  that  Cosme,"  she  remarked, 
pushing  away  her  plate.  "  He's  been  mak- 
in'  one  excuse  and  another  for  hoverin* 
around  the  house  all  day;  he'll  eat  all  there 
is  left,  and  lick  the  platter  clean,  if  there 
was  a  ton  of  it." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
NORA  is  ORDERED  BACK  TO  THE  CELLAR. 

FROM  his  shelter  under  the  rock,  in  the 
bank  of  the  arroyo,  Mr.  Carrol  gave 
one    all-comprehending    look    at    the 
wall    of    water    which,    filling    the    narrow 
space    from   bank   to   bank,   was    sweeping 
down  upon  him. 

Realizing  instantly  that  escape  by  way 
of  the  trail  was  now  impossible,  he  began 
to  climb  straight  up  the  nearly  perpendicu 
lar  side  of  the  gully.  His  ankle,  swollen 
and  inflamed  from  the  exertion  of  the  ride, 
had  been  paining  him  most  intolerably  but 
the  instant  before,  but  now  in  his  frantic 
struggle  for  life  he  forgot  the  injury. 
Twice  he  tried  to  gain  a  foothold  in  the 
crumbling,  rotten  earth  that  slumped  spirit 
lessly  away  beneath  his  feet,  sending  him 
sprawling  and  staggering  back  to  his  start- 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


85 


ing  point,  with  the  roaring  waters  coming 
closer,  closer,  until  the  first  wild  bursts  of 
spray  were  tossed  upward  so  far  that  his 
blanched  cheeks  were  wet  with  it.  Mr. 
Carrol  was  not  a  praying  man,  but  suddenly 
his  own  voice  sounded,  unexpectedly,  in  his 
ears : 

"  O  God,  please  help  me  out !  Don't— 
don't  let  me  die  here  while  my  poor  child 
is  being  unjustly  punished.  Help  me  !" 

Once  more  he  struggled  up  the  bank — up, 
and  up,  still  higher,  until  a  nimble  spring 
landed  him  on  top  of  the  rock  that  had  shel 
tered  him,  and,  reaching  up,  he  was  able 
to  grasp  the  tough  roots  of  a  cedar  tree 
that,  defying  drought  and  flood,  clung  tena 
ciously  to  the  side  of  the  arroyo.  Up  he 
struggled,  slipped,  and  grasped  the  tree 
trunk  just  in  time  to  save  himself;  another 
upward  scramble,  and  his  arms  were  around 
the  sturdy  trunk  of  another  cedar  growing 
on  the  very  verge  of  the  bank  itself,  and 
here  the  water  caught  him.  With  a  roar 
like  that  of  some  savage  beast  clutching  its 
prey,  it  caught  and  lifted  him  upon  its 
dizzying  current;  it  threshed  him  to  and 
fro,  up  and  down;  it  beat  him  with  frag 
ments  of  driftwood,  and  once  it  swept  re- 
sistlessly  over  his  helpless  head;  and  then, 
as  he  clung,  strangling  and  blinded,  the 
water  was  falling.  In  five  minutes  it  was 
lower  than  his  shoulders;  in  ten  it  was  so 
much  lower  that,  after  one  or  two  cautious 
efforts,  Mr.  Carrol  succeeded  in  extricating 
himself  from  its  current  and  climbing  out 
upon  the  bank.  He  sat  down  in  the  grate 
ful  warmth  of  the  sun,  and  watched  the 
brown  water  swirl  past  until  it  was  so 
nearly  spent  that  he  knew,  if  his  foot  had 
not  been  throbbing  so  painfully  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  move,  that  he  might 
easily  wade  across  the  little  thread  of 
water  still  left  in  the  arroyo,  and  so  hobble 
on  toward  home.  He  had  about  decided  to 
try  it,  pain  or  no  pain,  and  was  specula- 
tively  eying  the  cedar  in  quest  of  a  possible 
straight  branch  in  the  midst  of  its  distorted 
ugliness,  when  a  shout  from  the  opposite 


bank  drew  his  attention,  and  there  was 
Rupert  with  his  horse. 

Rupert  had  gone  first  to  the  Valdez 
ranch,  but,  having  an  unfortunate  fancy 
for  short-cuts,  he  had  taken  a  little-used 
trail  across  the  mesa  which  brought  him 
out  near  the  Valdez  corral.  Looking  into 
this  enclosure  as  he  rode  past,  he  saw 
Nora's  pet  Jersey,  plainly  very  ill  at  ease, 
walking  around  and  around  the  enclosure  in 
a  vain  attempt  to  find  some  point  of  egress. 
The  sight  filled  him  with  a  fresh  sense  of 
shame  and  humiliation,  but  his  face  be 
trayed  nothing  of  it  as,  riding  up  to  the 
door,  he  accosted  the  senora,  asking  if  she 
had  seen  anything  of  his  father. 

"  Yo'  padre  ride  away,  so,"  replied 
Senora  Valdez,  waving  a  small  brown  hand 
vaguely  in  the  direction  of  the  Cimarron. 

"Where?  Where  was  he  going,  do  you 
know?"  demanded  Rupert,  anxiously. 

Occasionally,  when  there  was  nothing 
to  be  gained  by  doing  otherwise,  and  when 
the  infrequent  impulse  seized  her,  Senora 
Valdez  had  been  known  to  tell  the  truth. 
Some  such  vague,  irresponsible  impulse 
seized  her  now,  and  she  gave  Rupert  the 
information  he  sought,  adding,  with  a 
beatific  smile : 

"Rain  come  hard  at  de  norf;  make 
Elescalante  Arroyo  to  hold  muchos  waters; 
yo'  padre,  if  he  pass  arroyo  befor'  water 
come,  no  come  back  so  fas'  as  he  come 
over." 

So,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  along  the 
road,  lest  the  colt  might  have  escaped  his 
father  before  the  arroyo  was  reached, 
Rupert  pushed  on,  reaching  the  gully,  as 
has  been  said,  at  the  moment  that  his  father 
had  decided  to  try  crossing  it  on  foot. 

Mr.  Carrol,  as  his  son  rode  across  the 
stream  and  led  the  bay  colt  again  to  his 
side,  was  a  pitiful  figure.  Splashed  with 
mud  from  head  to  foot,  stiff  and  aching  in 
every  joint,  while  the  concentrated  essence 
of  all  pain  seemed  to  be  in  his  ankle,  he 
was  unable  to  mount  the  horse  unassisted, 
but  suffered  Rupert  to  help  him  up  on  a 


86 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


rock,  from  which  vantage  he  at  length 
gained  the  saddle.  After  learning  how 
the  colt  had  come  home,  and,  as  a  result, 
how  Rupert  had  had  the  good  fortune  to 
strike  his  trail  so  soon,  Mr.  Carrol  spoke 
but  once  during  the  dreary  homeward  ride, 
and  that  was  to  observe,  as  they  were  pass 
ing  the  Valdez  ranch : 

"  I  daresay  Eleanor  thinks  she's  been  in 
the  cellar  a  week,  at  least;  time  passes 
slowly  to  anyone  in  the  dark." 

"  Or  to  anyone  in  the  water,"  Rupert  in 
terposed  wickedly.  It  did  not  seem  to  him 
that  his  father  realized  the  full  severity  of 
the  punishment  that  he  was  inflicting  on 
Nora — and  the  punishment  was  undeserved. 
The  instant  that  they  reached  home  and 
his  father  had  been  made  comfortable,  he 
would  make  his  confession.  Looking  at  the 
suffering  man  beside  him,  he  wished  that 
the  confession  was  already  made  and  he  in 
Nora's  place,  if  that  would  be  any  satisfac 
tion  to  his  father,  but  he  had  a  feeling 
that  no  such  childish  measures  would  be 
considered  meet  for  his  offense. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Mrs. 
Easton  came  hurrying  out  to  meet  them, 
followed  more  slowly  by  Nora,  on  whom 
her  father's  eyes  rested  with  a  look  of 
surprise  and  displeasure;  but  he  was  in  too 
great  distress  to  ask  any  questions  just 
then,  or  to  listen  to  any  explanations,  had 
they  been  offered.  Not  until  a  bath,  a 
change  of  clothing  and  a  liberal  application 
of  the  contents  of  the  camphor  bottle  to 
the  injured  ankle,  followed  by  a  warm 
meal,  had,  in  a  measure,  restored  him,  did 
he  address  Nora.  She  had  been  active  in 
ministering  to  his  comfort;  when  that  was 
reestablished  he  turned  to  her: 

"  How  is  it  that  I  find  you  here,  when  I 
left  you  locked  in  the  cellar?"  he  asked. 

Before  Nora  could  reply,  her  grand 
mother  hastened  to  answer  the  question,  as 
well  as  a  number  of  others  that  she  thought 
Mr.  Carrol  might  eventually  ask: 

"How  is  it  that  she's  here?  Because  I 
let  her  out." 


"How?" 

"  I  broke  in  the  window.  You  see, 
James,  we — I  got  the  idea  that  you  might 
be  in  great  trouble — why,  I  even  thought 
you  might  have  been  killed,  and  I  knew, 
of  course,  that  if  you  was,  you  would  need 
Nora  to  wait  on  you.  I  felt  that,  for  your 
sake,  it  would  be  best  to  have  her  on  hand. 
She  wasn't  very  willin'  to  come,  I'll  say 
that  much — not  but  what  she'd  be  willin' 
to  wait  on  you  if  you  was  killed,  or  alive, 
•  either,  for  that  matter — but  she  seemed  to 
think,  almost,  that  I  hadn't  ought  to  'a'  let 
her  out.  That  wasn't  exactly  right  in  her, 
you'll  admit  yourself,  James.  Old  as  I  am, 
I  hope  I  know  right  from  wrong!" 

"  You  don't  seem  to  have  known  it  in 
this  case,"  was  the  stern  comment. 

As  one  result  of  the  day's  exciting 
events,  Mrs.  Easton  was  really  over 
wrought,  and  very  tired.  As  Mr.  Carrol 
spoke,  her  gray  head  drooped.  It  seemed 
a  bitter  mockery  of  their  general  utility 
that  now,  when  she  so  sorely  needed  their 
aid,  no  supporting  text  or  quotation  from 
Mr.  Watts  came  to  her  mind.  Vanquished 
as  much  by  her  own  weariness  as  by  her 
son-in-law's  unrelenting  attitude,  she  buried 
her  face  in  the  folds  of  her  gingham  apron 
and  sobbed  as  helplessly  as  any  schoolgirl. 

Nora,  from  her  seat  near  the  window, 
looked  at  her  pityingly,  longing  to  go  to  her 
side  and  comfort  her,  but  afraid  to  move 
lest  her  father  should  be  still  further 
affronted. 

Rupert,  springing  to  his  feet,  had  taken 
a  step  toward  his  grandmother,  when  his 
father  called  out  sharply:  "  Sit  down, 
Rupert !"  As  the  boy  obeyed,  he  went  on 
angrily:  "Why,  what's  the  matter,  in  my 
own  house,  that  I  am  disobeyed  behind  my 
back  and  defied  to  my  face !  Eleanor,  as  it 
was  your  grandmother  who  let  you  out — 
and  you  had  no  business  to  come,  you 
know  that — but  as  she  let  you  out,  and  your 
being  shut  up  seems  to  worry  her,  you  may 
stay  out  if  you  are  ready  to  tell  me  all 
about  that  trade  of  yours."  He  paused  an 


Sit  down  Rupert,"   he  said    in  a  changed  voice. 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


89 


instant,  and,  as  Nora  made  no  response, 
went  on  hurriedly:  "If  you  don't  like  to 
speak  before  your  grandmother  and  Ru 
pert — 

"  It  isn't  that,  father,"  Nora  said,  tremu 
lously.  "  If — if  I  could  tell  you  at  all,  I 
would  not  mind  speaking  before  them." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  her  father, 
quietly.  "  Rupert,  go  out  and  board  up 
that  window  again ;  take  some  of  those  inch 
planks  and  fasten  them  up  with  spikes. 
Get  my  crutch  from  the  bedroom,  and  I'll 
take  Eleanor  out.  You've  been  a  good  and 
obedient  girl  till  now,  Eleanor,"  he  contin 
ued,  addressing  poor  Nora,  who  sat  regard 
ing  him  in  a  kind  of  dumb  amazement, 
"  and  that's  all  the  stronger  reason  why 
you  should  be  well  punished — do  you  un 
derstand — well  punished,  for  this." 

It  was  noticeable,  for  all  the  haste  and 
heat  with  which  he  spoke,  that  Mr.  Carrol's 
eyes,  as  he  said  this,  were  not  upon  the 
cowering  culprit,  but  upon  his  son. 

"  The — heif — heif — heifer  was  hers  !" 
sobbed  Mrs.  Easton. 

"  It  ain't  the  loss  of  the  heifer  that  I 
mind;  you  know  that,  mother.  It's  the  con 
temptible  secrecy  and  slyness  of  the  act  it 
self." 

Rupert,  who  had  been  waiting  an  oppor 
tunity  to  speak,  and,  like  a  greyhound  in 
leash,  quivering  with  impatience,  now  broke 
in  with  kindling  eyes:  "Don't  use  such 
terms  as  sly  and  contemptible  when  you  are 
speaking  of  Nora,  father.  Nora !  When 
you  hear  what  I'm  going  to  tell  you,  you'll 
— you'll  feel  like  kissing  the  hem  of  her 
garment,  as  I  do.  Father,  it  is  her  unselfish 
bravery  that  has  shamed  your  cowardly  son 
into  speaking  the  truth ;  don't  worry  Nora 
any  more  about  that  heifer.  I  know  where 
she  is,  and  why  she  is  there." 

Mrs.  Easton,  her  tears  suddenly  dried, 
put  down  her  apron  and  fixed  her  eyes  on 
the  boy  who  stood  paling  and  flushing  un 
der  his  father's  searching  look,  while  Nora, 
clasping  her  hands,  leaned  forward  in  an 
attitude  of  breathless  attention.  Mr.  Carrol 


sank  back  in  his  chair  and  drew  a  long 
sigh — a  sigh  which  sounded  very  much  like 
one  of  relief,  while  an  expression  of  pain 
ful  perplexity  that  had  become  almost  ha 
bitual  to  his  face,  of  late,  suddenly  van 
ished. 

"  Sit  down,  Rupert,"  he  said,  in  a 
changed  voice.  "  If  you've  got  anything  to 
tell,  I  reckon  we're  all  ready  and  willing 
to  hear  it." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
UNRAVELING  A  WEB. 

RUPERT  seated  himself,  as  requested, 
but  before  beginning  his  story,  he 
volunteered  the  seemingly  irrelevant 
information : 

"  There's  a  nest  of  tarantulas  under  the 
window-ledge  of  the  root  cellar.  I  put  a 
stone  over  it;  please  remember,  all  of  you, 
not  to  move  it." 

His  father  nodded,  and  Mrs.  Easton  re 
marked,  sotto  voce: 

"A  teakittle  full  of  bilin'  water  '11  set 
tle  their  business." 

Nora  was  silent,  and  her  air  of  intent 
listening  did  not  relax.  Rupert's  story  was 
just  then  of  more  interest  to  her  than  the 
fact  that  she  had  narrowly  escaped  an  en 
counter  with  a  score  or  more  of  those  ven 
omous  and  pugnacious  creatures. 

Rupert  glanced  at  her.  "  You  remember 
that  evening,  Nora — the  night  before 
Snowflake  was  lost — when  you  came  out 
to  help  me  round  up  the  cattle  that  got 
away  from  me,  on  the  east  range?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  didn't  tell  you  so,  but  I  had 
promised  those  cowboys  who  helped  us,  be 
fore  you  came,  that  I  would  go  over  to  the 
7-H  Ranch  the  next  night.  I  was  crazy 
to  hear  De  Vargas,  father  " — he  turned  to 
his  father,  a  note  of  appeal  in  his  voice: 
"  I  don't  know  how  I  am  going  to  ask  you 
to  forgive  me  for  what  I  did,  and  I  reckon 
you  won't  feel  much  like  it  when  you  know 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


it  all.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  I  must  have 
taken  leave  of  my  senses  about  that  time. 
I  have  been  so  cowardly,  I've  acted  so 
many  lies — if  I  haven't  told  them  outright— 
that  I  feel  like  a  sneaking  whelp,  and — I 
guess  I  am  one." 

"  Go  on,"  commanded  Mr.  Carrol,  briefly. 

"  I  asked  you  to  let  me  go,  father,  but 
I  didn't  think  you  would;  and  I  knew  it 
wasn't  right  to  ask  it  when  you  were  hurt 
and  suffering,  but — I  was  going — and  I 
started,  anyway.  I  waited  until  you  were 
all  asleep,  then  I  went  out  to  the  barn;  I 
had  not  intended  to  take  Snowflake  at  first, 
but  Vidette  seemed  so  tired  that  I  was 
ashamed  to  take  her  out  again,  and  Snow- 
flake  was  begging  to  go.  It  was  hard  work 
to  hold  her  after  we  got  out  on  to  the 
plains;  she  went  like  a  shot.  You  remem 
ber  that  short-cut  around  the  head  of  the 
mesa  to  the  7-H  ?  I  meant  to  take  that ; 
I  thought  I  had  taken  it,  and  it's  so  smooth 
— till  you  pass  Dry  Creek — that  it's  safe 
riding,  so  I  let  her  have  her  head,  although 
it  was  dark.  But  I  went  too  far  south; 
instead  of  rounding  the  mesa,  I  was  riding 
along  its  upper  end;  you  know  how  it  drops 
down  on  the  north,  all  at  once,  for  nearly 
twelve  feet.  I  didn't  see  where  we  were, 
and  Snowflake  didn't,  either,  until  all  of  a 
sudden  she  tried  to  stop;  she  did  stop, 'so 
quick  that  I  was  shot  off,  clean  over  her 
head,  but  she  was  too  late  to  save  herself. 
I  kept  on  going,  slipping  and  sliding  to  the 
bottom  of  the  slope,  and  I  heard  Snowflake 
crashing  after  me.  I  had  time  to  think,  as 
we  both  went  down,  what  if  she  should  fall 
Dn  top  of  me !  But  she  didn't.  I  wish  she 
had.  When  we  both  reached  the  bottom 
she  lay  at  arm's  length  from  me;  I  was  not 
hurt  at  all.  I  got  up  and  looked  at  her, 
lying  huddled  up  in  a  heap  at  my  feet.  If 
she  had  been  a  little  scrub  broncho,"  Rupert 
interpolated  bitterly,  "  she  would  have 
jumped  up  without  a  scratch,  but  it  was 
Snowflake,  and  so — and  so  " — Rupert's 
voice  shook ;  he  concluded,  huskily — "  she 
didn't  get  up.  It  was  a  long  time  before 


I  would  believe  that  she  couldn't.  I  patted 
and  coaxed  and  called — she  did  not  stir.  I 
didn't  go  near  her  head  at  first ;  I  was 
afraid — afraid  that  I  should  find  out  that 
she  was  dead.  When  I  did  force  myself  to 
lift  her  head  I  saw  that  the  thing  that  I 
had  been  afraid  of  had  happened.  Her  neck 
was  broken." 

Rupert  paused  to  get  control  of  his  voice, 
and  his  father,  with  his  face  turned  away, 
looked  steadfastly  out  of  the  window.  His 
face  was  still  and  grave,  but  no  longer 
angry.  Perhaps  he  saw  a  terrified,  con 
science-smitten  boy — his  only  son — kneeling 
alone  in  the  wide  night  of  the  plains,  be 
side  the  beautiful,  motionless  creature  who, 
but  a  moment  before,  had  been  carrying 
him,  wild  and  free  as  the  wind.  And  she 
was  dead.  Poor  Rupert ! 

"  I  meant  to  tell  you,  father,  just  as 
quick  as  I  got  home ;  I  meant  to  awake  you, 
if  you  were  asleep,  so  that  I  need  not  lose 
a  minute,  but — when  I  got  here,  I — I  grew 
afraid.  The  moon  had  come  up  long  be 
fore  I  got  home,  and  there  was  a  mist,  and 
when  I  came  upon  a  band  of  cattle  they 
would  start  away  from  me  and  stare  and 
snort.  I  knew  it  was  just  because  they 
were  not  used  to  seeing  anyone  on  foot, 
and  yet  it  made  me  feel  as  if  they  knew 
what  I  had  done — as  if  everything  was 
avoiding  me.  I  knew  that  the  straight 
forward  course  was  best.  I  have  known  it 
all  along.  I — I — haven't  enjoyed  deceiving 
you,  father,"  Rupert  went  on,  brokenly, 
"  but  I  didn't  seem  to  have  will-power 
enough  to  bring  myself  to  tell  you.  I 
thought,  along  at  first,  when  you  were  in 
quiring  around  and  offering  rewards  for 
Snowflake's  recovery,  that  it  would  be 
easier  to  run  away  from  the  trouble  than 
to  face  it.  I  thought  that,  since  I  wasn't 
a  very  good  hand  on  the  range — and,  I 
don't  suppose,  ever  will  be — you'd  be  fully 
as  well  satisfied  if  I  went,  and  it  wouldn't 
cost  you  any  more  to  pay  a  good  hand  than 
it  does  to  get  things  out  of  the  tangle  that 
I'm  always  getting  them  into.  I  should 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


91 


"have  gone,  then,  but  for  Nora;  she  sus 
pected  what  I  had  done  and  what  I  meant 
to  do." 

Mr.  Carrol  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the 
contemplation  of  the  landscape  outside  the 
window  to  glance  inquiringly  at  his 
•daughter,  who  answered  the  look  with  a 
slight  affirmative  nod. 

"  Nora  begged  me  to  stay,"  Rupert  went 
on,  "  and,  father,  I  am  so  hard,  and  so 
unfeeling,  that  I  held  out.  I  wouldn't 
promise  her  not  to  leave  home  until  she 
went  down  on  her  knees  to  ask  it  of  me." 

Here  Mrs.  Easton  had  a  momentary  re 
course  to  the  gingham  apron,  while,  with 
an  incoherent  reference  to  Mr.  Watts,  she 
murmured : 

"" '  On  your  knees,  fair  saint,  to  me  ? 

Not  so,  not  so !   Arise,  lest  the  avenging 

angel's  pen, 
Dipped  in  thy  tears,  shall  trace  anew  the 

record  of  my  sins  !'  " 

"  Grandma !"  murmured  Nora,  implor 
ingly. 

Rupert  continued:  "I  promised,  and 
I  stayed.  It  wasn't  easy  to  do,  father,  be 
cause  every  day  that  I  put  off  my  confes 
sion  made  matters  so  much  the  worse.  The 
other  day — yesterday — Cosme  found  Snow- 
flake's  body,  and  beside  it  my  silver  birth 
day  pin,  where  it  had  fallen  when  we  rolled 
•down  the  cliff.  Cosme  seems  to  have  sus 
pected  me,  all  along,  and  it  was  easy  enough 
for  him  to  see  how  matters  stood  after 
that.  When  he  told  me  what  he  had  found, 
and  what  he  suspected,  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  go.  I  would  go,  if  I  broke 
promises  piled  sky-high." 

"  Why  didn't  Cosme  come  to  me?  Why 
didn't  he  tell  me  that  he  had  found  her?" 
asked  Mr.  Carrol. 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you  that.  It  seems 
that  he  has  got  into  trouble  of  some  kind 
with  his  father.  He  didn't  say  what  it  was, 
but  his  father  had  ordered  him  to  show  up 
at  the  old  Valdez  cabin,  last  night,  and  take 
a  good  threshing.  I  reckon  old  Valdez 


don't  spare  the  lash  when  he  gets  after 
Cosme.  This  time  he  had  promised  to  use 
cane  cactus  branches,  and — well,  Cosme 
threatened  to  come  on  you  for  the  reward 
for  finding  Snowflake — he  said  that  you 
didn't  say  she'd  got  to  be  alive — if  I  didn't 
go  down  to  the  cabin,  when  it  got  too  dark 
for  his  father  to  distinguish  between  us, 
and  take  the  whipping  in  his  place.  To 
keep  him  quiet — until  I  could  get  away — I 
promised.  I  intended  to  go  straight  away 
without  coming  into  the  house,  but  there 
was  a  man  here,  and  I  waited  for  him  to 
be  gone.  Nora  overheard  Cosme  and  me 
talking;  she  hunted  me  up;  she  tried  to 
make  me  promise  again  that  I  wouldn't 
leave.  I  wouldn't  promise  her  not  to  go 
away  until  she  said  that  she  had  a  plan — 
oh,  father,  you  will  be  ashamed  to  hear  me 
say  it — she  said  that  she  was  sure  that  she 
could  persuade  old  Valdez  to  agree  to  let 
Cosme  off,  and,  at  the  same  time,  not  to 
speak  of  the  matter  to  him — to  just  let  the 
whole  thing  drop,  as  if  it  had  never  come 
up  at  all.  And  I  was  so  worn  out  that  I 
consented  to  stay  and  let  her  try  it.  Her 
plan  succeeded;  it  wasn't  until  she  told  you 
this  morning  that  she  knew  where  the  Jer 
sey  was  that  I  had  the  least  idea  what  it 
had  been.  When  she  said  that,  I  knew — 
Valdez  has  always  wanted  Daisy.  I  was 
just  as  sure  that  Nora  had  turned  her  over 
to  him,  as  the  price  of  his  silence,  this 
morning,  as  I  was  this  afternoon  when  I 
rode  past  his  corral  and  saw  her  there." 

"  How  is  that,  Nora?"  Mr.  Carrol  asked, 
as  Rupert  ceased. 

"  It's  right,"  Nora  confessed,  hurriedly. 
"  Mf.  Valdez  agreed  not  to  tell  how  he 
came  by  her;  he  was  to  send  anyone  asking 
him,  to  me." 

For  so  hot-tempered  a  man,  Mr.  Carrol 
controlled  himself  remarkably  well.  He  sat 
for  some  moments  after  Rupert's  story  was 
concluded,  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and 
his  fingers  interlaced,  apparently  lost  in 
thought.  The  other  occupants  of  the  room 
were  equally  silent.  Rupert  was  inwardly 


92 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


bracing  himself  to  receive  sentence,  but 
feeling  glad  for  all  that — glad  to  his  very 
finger-tips — that  he  had  confessed,  that  he 
was  no  longer  a  sneaking  culprit.  Being 
a  culprit,  simply,  seemed  to  one  of  his  dis 
position  far  less  terrible  than  to  be  com 
pelled  to  recognize  himself  a  sneaking  one. 
"  We  seem,  as  near  as  I  can  make  out, 
to  have  been  carrying  on  considerable  of  a 
game  of  cross  purposes,"  Mr.  Carrol  at 
length  observed,  looking  up  at  Rupert, 
frankly.  "  You'll  be  surprised,  son,  that — 
well,  that  I  haven't  been  quite  blind,  myself. 
You  are  an  honest  lad,  still  it  seems  that 
your  sister  and  Cosme  both  suspected  just 
about  what  did  occur ;  it's  rather  odd,  seems 
to  me,  that  none  of  you  should  have  thought 
of  crediting  me  with  wits  as  bright  as 
theirs.  You  were  very  anxious  to  hear 
that  fiddler,  we  all  knew  that.  I  got  to 
thinking  things  over  a  day  or  two  after 
Snowflake  disappeared,  and  I  seemed  to  re 
ceive  quite  a  bit  of  light  on  the  subject; 
maybe  I  got  the  more  light  because  even 
laudanum  won't  always  keep  a  man  who  is 
in  pain  asleep  all  night.  I  was  awake  when 
you  crept  into  the  house  along  toward  day 
light.  I  had  heard  the  barn  door  shut — 
when  you  put  away  my  saddle,  I  suppose — 
before  you  came  in.  It  was  so  hard  to  be 
lieve  that  you  would  do  such  a  thing,  that 
you  would  try  to  deceive  me,  though,  Ru 
pert,  that  I  did  not  connect  these  two  cir 
cumstances  and  your  evident  misery  with 
the  fact  of  Snowflake's  disappearance,  until 
I  happened  to  glance  out  of  my  window 
and  saw  Nora  frantically  shaking  my  sad 
dle  blankets.  She  did  not  get  off  all  the 
white  hairs,  as  I  found  later  on  examination, 
and  I  had  not  ridden  Snowflake  for  a  num 
ber  of  days;  I  had  used  the  blanket  on  the 
bay,  and  I  knew  that  those  white  hairs  were 
fresh.  It  was  easy,  too  easy,  to  imagine 
what  was  in  your  mind,  and  the  course  that 
you  would  probably  take.  As  to  Cosme's 
claiming  the  reward,  he  could  no  more  do  it 
than  Valclez  can  keep  Daisy.  One  of  the 
boys  from  the  Cimarron  found  where  Snow- 


flake  was  lying,  the  other  day,  and  called 
last  night  to  tell  me.  I  said  nothing  about 
it,  for  I  wanted  you  to  own  up  what  you 
had  done,  like  a  man,  Rupert.  A  blind  man 
could  have  seen  how  you  were  suffering, 
and  I  was  terribly  afraid  that,  in  your  des 
peration,  you  would  give  us  the  slip.  I 
meant  to  hunt  you  up,  hot-foot,  if  you  did 
leave.  Sometimes — often,"  he  continued, 
thoughtfully,  "  there  comes  a  moral  crisis 
in  a  boy's  life — a  moral  crisis.  I  knew 
that  such  an  one  had  come  to  you.  It 
seemed  to  me  best,  for  your  future  strength, 
that  you  should  struggle  through  with  it 
alone.  It  seems  that  you  couldn't  quite 
conquer  the  evil  impulses  unaided,  and 
there's  where  your  sister's  love  has  proved 
itself  wiser  than  my  theorizing. 

"  Of  course  I  did  not  know  just  what 
part  the  heifer's  sudden  disappearance  and 
Nora's  refusal  to  explain  it  had  to  do  with 
your  struggle,  but  I  knew  that,  since  Xora 
could  not,  all  at  once,  have  changed  her 
nature,  it  had  something  to  do  with  it. 
Things  were  looking  so  dark  that  I  con 
cluded  it  was  time  to  use  a  little  vicarious 
coercion,  if  you'll  excuse  such  a  dictionary 
expression.  I  thought  that  if  nothing  else 
would  bring  you  to  your  senses,  harshness 
toward  your  sister,  who  was  suffering  for 
your  sake,  might  do  it." 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  pretty  good  judge 
of  character,"  Rupert  remarked,  with  a  rue 
ful  smile. 

"  Yes,  in  this  case,  at  least.  You  see,  I'd 
been  making  a  study  of  it,  and  I'd  about  de 
cided  that  if  you  could  endure  to  see  her 
unjustly  punished,  you  could  endure  almost 
anything.  But  if  Nora  had  been  less  heroic, 
if  she  had  told  us  all  about  her  remarkable 
trade,  that  scheme  would  have  failed,  too. 
Eleanor,  my  little  girl,  come  here  and  give 
your  cross  old  father  a  kiss." 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


93 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
CONCLUSION. 

4  ^  T  T  HAS  hurt  me  all  along,  Rupert," 
I  Mr.  Carrol  said — when  Nora  had 
complied,  and  had  taken  the  opportu 
nity  to  whisper:  "Please  don't  be  hard  on 
Rupert,  father.  He  has  suffered  so  much  !" 
— "  to  see,  as  I  could  not  help  doing,  that 
you  believed  that  it  was  alone  the  loss  of 
the  mare  that  grieved  me,  and  it  cut  deeper 
and  deeper  the  longer  you  persisted  in  your 
attempt  to  deceive  me.  Well — let  that  all 
pass.  We'll  begin  again,  all  'round.  I've 
been  a  good  deal  to  blame  in  one  way,  my 
self.  I'm  naturally  close-mouthed  and  hot- 
tempered.  I  feel  sure,  now,  that  it  would 
have  been  far  better  if  I  had  early  formed 
the  habit  of  taking  you  a  little  more  into 
my  confidence,  and  I  am  going  to  do  so  now 
to  the  extent  of  saying  that  I  believe,  with 
Nora,  that  you  have  suffered  enough.  I 
.shall  not  attempt  to  inflict  any  further  pun 
ishment  on  you,  Rupert,  for  you  have,  un 
fortunately,  punished  yourself  severely — 
severely.  Rupert,  I  told  you  that  I  intended 
to  sell  Snowflake.  I  also  intended  to  use 
the  money  so  obtained  in  sending  you  away 
to  school.  Why  should  you  have  thought,  be 
cause  it  is  a  fact  that  I  cannot  well  en 
dure  the  sort  of  music  that  folks  drag  out 
of  a  fiddle,  that  I  was  cruel  and  unfeeling? 
Have  I  ever  objected  to  your  having  a 
fiddle?  I  have  only  insisted  that  you  should 
not  allow  it  to  take  your  mind  from  your 
work;  there  was,  to  me,  a  great  reason 
why  your  work  should  be  well  done,  why 
we  should  be  very  saving  of  our  time  and 
of  our  money.  I've  seen,  all  along,  that 
you  had  a  great  talent  for  that  peculiar 
kind  of  business.  You  get  it  from  your 
grandmother's — my  mother's — folks.  I  be 
lieve  in  cultivating  whatever  talent  anyone 
has,  if  so  be  it  isn't  a  bad  one.  I  promised 
myself  that  this  fall  you  should  go  down  to 
Santa  Fe  to  school,  as  you  have  so  long 
wished,  and  that  the  price  of  Snowflake 
should  help  to  pay  your  way  and  to  pay  for 


music  lessons.  I  wish,  now,  that  I  had  told 
you  of  it.  It  would  have  made  your  life 
pleasanter." 

And  that  was  all  that  Mr.  Carrol  had 
to  say  about  it;  he  was  never  known  to 
refer  to  the  subject  of  Rupert's  escapade 
again,  and  when  curious  visitors  inquired 
as  to  Snowflake's  fate,  his  answer  was, 
"  She  accidentally  fell  over  a  cliff  and  was 
killed."  But,  on  that  same  day,  he  had 
called  Cosme  to  him  and  instructed  him  to 
go  over  to  his  father's  and  drive  home  the 
Jersey  heifer  that  he  would  find  in  his  fa 
ther's  corral. 

Great  was  the  young  Mexican's  surprise 
on  hearing  this — so  great,  that  he  so  far 
departed  from  his  usual  habits  as  to  ven 
ture  some  halting  surmises  as  to  how  the 
heifer  came  there.  "  Yo'  s'posen,  now,  'at 
'at  Daisy,  she  jump  corral  an'  git  in  like 
'at?"  he  asked. 

"  It  may  be,"  responded  his  employer, 
coolly.  "  It's  like  enough  that  that 
'  stariff '  you  was  speaking  of  a  few  days 
ago  got  after  her,  and  she  jumped  in  there 
for  safety.  Anyway,  you  go  and  get  her 
out." 

Cosme,  who  understood  that  he  was  be 
ing  made  sport  of,  obeyed  less  amiably  than 
usual.  He  had  a  suspicion,  for  which  he 
could  seem  to  find  no  grounds,  that  the 
fact  of  the  Jersey's  being  in  his  father's 
corral  had  something  to  do  with  the  whip 
ping  that  Rupert  was  to  have  taken  in  his 
stead.  Did  he  take  it?  Cosme  never  knew. 

Valdez,  senior,  on  returning  home  and 
finding  that  the  coveted  Jersey  had  been  re 
claimed  by  Mr.  Carrol,  bore  the  loss 
philosophically.  Privately,  he  had  had  his 
doubts,  from  the  first,  as  to  the  legality  of 
the  transaction  that  turned  her  over  to 
him.  He  assured  Mr.  Carrol  that  he  bore 
him  no  ill-will,  but  added  pathetically :  "  I 
promise  Senorita  Nora  not  to  w'ip  Cosme ; 
fool,  me.  I  got  Cosme's  soul  on  my  han' 
for  be  save.  How  I  goin'  save  it,  if  I  no 
w'ip  for  bad  habit?" 

"  You've  whipped  him  too  much  already," 


94 


THE  MYSTERY  AT  THE  CARROL  RANCH. 


Mr.  Carrol  declared;  and  added,  from  the 
wisdom  of  his  new  experience,  "  Try  mak 
ing  a  friend  of  him.  That's  better  than 
coercion." 

"  Me  ?  I  knows  nuttin'  'bout  'at  coussin ; 
maybe  'at  good  for^w'ite  boy.  I  goin'  lick 
Cosme  good  nex'  chance  I  git." 

And  Valdez  kept  his  word  to  the  letter. 

A  year  afterward,  when  Rupert  went 
away  to  school,  the  little  family  left  behind 
saw  him  go  with  proud  and  thankful 
hearts.  He  had  earned  the  right  to  go,  and 
to  be  trusted.  Nora,  standing  beside  the 
road  in  front  of  the  house,  watched  the 
stage  that  carried  him  until  it  became  a 
mere  vanishing  speck  in  the  distance,  then 
she  looked  off  and  away  over  the  far  plains, 
and  the  purple  mountains  that  uprose  before 
her,  silent,  changeless  friends.  It  was 


early  morning,  and  here  and  there,  from 
warm  hillside  or  hidden  mountain  valley, 
blue  pennons  of  smoke  were  curling  lazily 
upward — smoke  that  rose,  as  she  knew, 
from  lonely  little  cabins,  from  remote  cat 
tle  camps,  the  fixed  and  the  migratory 
homes  of  both  white  and  Mexican  ranchers 
and  herdsmen;  and,  gazing  on  the  uplifting 
panorama,  if  there  was  any  pain  in  her 
heart  because  of  the  chances  that  she  her 
self  had  missed,  Nora  resolutely  stifled  it, 
Rupert's  feet  were  set  in  the  right  way  at 
last,  and  the  future — her  intuition,  the  clear 
vision  of  love,  told  her — held  great  prizes 
for  him,  and  the  best  prize  of  all,  as  she 
saw  it,  and  as  it  came  to  pass,  was  that 
her  brother  came  to  be  recognized  not  only 
as  a  trustworthy  man,  but  as  a  power  for 
good  wherever  his  lot  was  cast. 


THE    END. 


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NOV  20  1941  If. 

MAY   12  1943 

SENT  ON  ILL 

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